Point of Succession
by Jedi Master Bag
Summary: Beyond has escaped from prison, taking Mello as his hostage. Hot on his heels, L is forced to seek help in apprehending Beyond from the criminal profiler who knows him best, Light Yagami. AU, SLASH L/Light
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I was supposed to be writing a college admissions essay, but I wrote this instead. It's been awhile since I've written fanfiction, years in fact. So I really have no idea where the hell this came from. All I know is that it's the easiest time I've had of writing a story where the characters weren't my own.

Just a quick WARNING. This fic contains language, because I can't write Matt and Mello any other way, along with possible gore, Beyond Birthday being who he is. For the most part this will be L/Light, with hints of Matt/Mello and BB/Light, though I probably won't be writing anything explicit. If this changes, I'll let you guys know.

Depressing but true fact, the following characters are not my property.

Chapter 1

_He walked down the narrow corridor warily. His shoulder's gently brushing against the white walls. They were cold to the touch, drawing goose bumps along his flesh even through the thick fabric of his jacket. The steady clacking of his shoes against the tiled floor gave away none of his nervousness. From the exterior he appeared calm, his visage collected in an expression of determination. However, though the determination was no lie, the calmness was._

'Cowards,'_ he thought to himself with a grimace. The guards had given him the key to the door that lay at the end of the hallway. But they refused to go any further than the entrance to hall. The idiots had left him there, with nothing more than a countenance of fear and the knowledge that if anything should go wrong, there was a red button by the door he could push for help. _

_He chuckled darkly at the fact, knowing that if anything were to go wrong with this meeting, the guards wouldn't be able to reach him in time._

_He stopped before the door. A small window was placed into its steel frame, allowing him to peer into the cubical. The thin frame of a man huddled in the corner, head lolled to the side, eyes looking directly at him. _

_With trembling hands he laid the key into the lock. With a turn, a series of clicks echoed down the hallway, louder than they actually should have been. Perhaps it was his ears augmenting the sound into a warning bell, his mind beseeching him to turn and run, run back, run far. Run away. Closing his eyes he exhaled softly and pushed the door open._

3B

"Light! Light!"

Carmel colored eyes glanced blurrily up at the woman approaching him. The young man responded to the dark figure with a grumble.

"Damn kid, you been working all night?" Naomi Misora chuckled at the sight of her long time friend and colleague, Light Yagami. She'd officially been working with the brilliant rookie for only a couple of months, the boy having just gotten out of college. But she'd known him longer than that, since the day he'd left Japan for America. She'd be lying if she said her heart hadn't adopted the boy as her kid brother.

The twenty one year old in question was currently sprawled in his desk chair, surrounded by the gently, flickering hum of two computer monitors and countless piles of folders, loose papers, vibrant, yellow legal pads, and computer print offs. Empty Starbucks cups littered the floor, the scent of stale coffee permeating the small, windowless office.

Rubbing his eyes, he nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, pretty much. There was a lot of superfluous information to go through. I don't know who the hell you've got working beneath you, but it is my suggestion that you fire them immediately."

"Oh don't be that way," she returned with a smile. "They're good people."

"Uh-huh," he scoffed in disbelief. "Now what are you doing here?"

"Its lunch time," was her only explanation before turning out of the office, expecting Light to follow.

Groaning, Light stretched languidly, eyes sweeping over the mess he'd made in the last twenty four hours. Seeking out the fruit of his labor, he spotted the thin, manila file, neatly placed beneath a pyramid of dilapidated, Styrofoam cups. Grumbling inaudibly he reached for the file and stood, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. Kicking the door to his office shut behind him, he walked swiftly for the elevator.

"Damn woman," he mumbled, jamming the button for the lobby of the FBI building. Coolly he leaned against the railing that lined the elevator, head resting against the back of the cold metal. Briefly he registered the ding of the door opening, admitting two more passengers.

The fatigue was hitting him. The lines sprouting across his face were beginning to make him look older than his twenty one years. Less than a year working with Naomi Misora and his soul was taking a toll on it. For every one man he assisted her in clamping the handcuffs on, there were three that got away. Hell that was putting it optimistically and Light wasn't an optimist. He wasn't about kidding himself. You couldn't spend every waking hour of the day going over the motives, thoughts, and reactions of notorious criminals by thinking that the eggs would always be sunny side up. Sometimes the eggs burned, even when you stood over the stove babysitting them for the ten minutes it took to fry them, some of them were beyond saving.

Great, he was comparing his job to poultry spawn. Yeah, the fatigue was hitting him. Once more, he placed the blame on Misora.

He wormed his way out from the back of the elevator and into the lobby. Setting a quick pace he pushed his way through the revolving glass door and onto the San Francisco City streets. Day light hit him unkindly, like a brass knuckle of sunshine straight to the eyes. Shielding his face from the harsh rays, Light grumbled to himself again, tracing the path to the restaurant he knew Misora would be waiting for him at. The salty air mixed against the chalky scent of concrete and marble around him. Breathing in the air, he had to admit it was a nice change from the re-filtered staleness he was constantly inhaling at his office. There was just something about the salt the cleansed his mind, helped him to think. He could do without the sun, but the sea air was a newfound comfort to him.

Turning right down Van Ness Avenue, Light headed towards the Indian restaurant on the corner of the block. Nann N Curry it was called. Figure Misora would pick a place to eat at that he hated.

Walking through the door and into the dimly lit establishment, he wove his way around an array of wooden screens and onto the dining floor. Misora was waiting for him in the back, a mocking smile on her tanned face.

"You know I don't like Indian food," he said curtly, pulling out the chair opposite her.

"Too bad, I ordered you the Lamb Palak Gosht. How did you know I'd be here anyway?" she asked, sipping a glass of water with a raised eyebrow.

"You had that look on your face when you barged into my office, the look that plainly said 'I want to make him suffer.' And this is the closest Indian place."

She laughed lightly at the comment. "Well we're not here for enjoyment, so just deal kiddo."

Light rolled his eyes at the taunt, more than used to her quips about his age, and handed the manila file to her. Delicately she opened it and scanned the contents.

"He's not insane," Light said, giving her a moment to pick out the finer details of his report. "At least not legally, which is all that matters to you."

She nodded her head with a gentle hum, eyes narrowing as she got to the bottom of the page.

"Although the lack of mutilation would suggest a lesser interest in the actual victims, and more of a curiosity towards taking the lives of others, he was clean. Obsessive Compulsive if anything else, always shooting and then washing the body with bleach, as you know," Light continued.

"Yes, but how does that not make him insane. You know me Light, all of them are psychos in my mind. I just want to know how I can take this one down." Misora placed the folder into her bag and folded her hands on top of the table, steel gaze appraising the younger man.

"It's simple really," Light supplied. "Booth's notes were the ones that caught my interest in particular. When you went in for the arrest he was standing five feet from what would have been the final victim, five feet. Out of breath, Booth said he'd chased him from the rooftop of a supermarket. The culprit ran for the victim, and tried to shoot them with a sniper rifle at point blank range. That was the first time he strayed from his usual methods, and it was in an attempt to kill that individual."

"But he didn't do it," Misora quipped, interrupting.

Light shot her a glare. Friend or not, he didn't like being interrupted. "Yes, I know that. He broke down. He couldn't kill when in close proximity to the victim. Most people who use guns do it for sport, or for efficiency. Your guy, he wasn't a sportsman, didn't toy with the prey at all, which leaves efficiency as the sole option. Each victim was left unattended for three minutes before they died. Again, the three minutes points towards OCD as there were never any deviations to that time span. They were shot from fifty feet away, straight through the head. When a killer uses a gun at that range, it's not because they enjoy taking out there targets, it's because they want it done fast, without pain, and most importantly, it's because they don't want to feel their victim die. That fear of feeling another person die shows he knew what he was doing was wrong."

Misora nodded, following the logic of Light's assessment.

"And if that wasn't enough, I pulled up his high school records. The man failed biology because he refused to dissect a frog. Claimed it was inhuman to do that to the creature while it could still breath, paralyzed or not."

Misora shot the boy a scolding look in face of his bad humor, but didn't comment as their food arrived, waiter carrying a tray of two dishes. Light's mouth thinned into a line at the sight of what was placed before him. Thinly cut lamb was artistically arranged across his plate, spinach garnishing the entrée, wilting at the tips of the leaves. What was worse was the thick fumes of pepper and green chili, tangling in his nostrils amidst the thick, unyielding cream of curry. The mixture sent his stomach into a barrel roll, noxious and grating.

Once more Light reiterated, "I don't like Indian food."

"Hush and eat," Misora commanded. "It won't kill you, plus you could benefit from a little variation in life. Man cannot live off of sushi alone."

"I don't just eat sushi," Light protested, but picked up his knife anyway, preparing to fight his gag reflex. "Now what else did you want to talk about? I know if all you'd wanted was my file you would have just taken it from my office without permission, not set up this whole afternoon debacle" he groused.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of having underlings," Misora said with a smile, savoring the flavors of cauliflower mixed with potatoes and tomatoes as well as the distasted that marred her companions face. She never said she wasn't a sadistic big sister. "You my dear, are my underling. But you are right; I did want to talk about something else."

Light sat up straighter, deciding that Misora's feelings weren't worth the stomach cramps the lamb would grace him with later, and set his plate to the side, nodding for the FBI agent to continue.

"L's grown interested in you."

Light's eyes widened without his permission, the statement catching him completely off guard. L, The World's Greatest Detective, was interested in him? Although Light was aware that Misora had worked with L in the past, most notably on the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. In fact, Light's profiling of the case for one of his college papers had been what got him a position in the FBI as a Criminal Psychologist. Light was one of the few that knew Misora had worked as L's agent on that case, she'd told him herself. She also told him that working for the eccentric sleuth was a pain in her ass, and way too much of a hassle than was necessary. So really it wasn't that much different than working under her, Light noted. He only wished that one day he'd be able to tell her that fact without getting fired, or having his ass kicked.

"You know this how?" Light asked after a moment of silence.

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. But Light could tell she was concerned over the matter. "He keeps asking about you. Wanting to know more about you, how your input affects the outcome of a case."

Light blinked at her. The obnoxious scent of curry and lamb forgotten as he scrambled to review every detail offered to him. In the end he decided it didn't amount to much. If L really was all that interested in him, he'd call on him himself. Just as he'd contacted Naomi. For the moment he supposed his rap sheet, the thirty eight cases he's worked on in the few months he'd been at the Bureau, were remarkable for a rookie like himself. But he wasn't a field agent, wasn't even a detective. His job lied in riffling through the mind of a killer, playing around with it, and finding that one personality quirk that made them leap over the edge of socially acceptable actions. L was already adept at that, he wouldn't be the world's greatest detective if he weren't. What use could he possibly be to the man?

"Light," Naomi shook him out of his thoughts, drawing him out of his mind and back into the restaurant. "This isn't something I want you to brush off."

"Naomi," Light argued. "You're talking about one of the most powerful men in the world. If he wants me, it's not like I'm going to have much choice."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

3B

L munched solemnly on his cake. The flavors somehow seeming dull to his well trained pallet.

"Watari," the detective called. "Where is this cake from?"

Watari entered the living room of the Palace Hotel Suit they were currently situated in. "I acquired it from a place on the street level, Specialty's I believe it was called. Why?"

L glowered at the cake, mentally admonishing the offensive dessert for being less than satisfactory. "It's good, but it's not _that_ good. The strawberries weren't in season."

"That would be because it is almost fall sir, you cannot fault the bakery for that," Watari chortled. "How about I bring you a chocolate, raspberry mousse?"

"And an M&M cookie, I would like one of those as well," L responded before turning back to his laptop.

The image on the screen was of an attractive, young man from Japan. He'd been living in San Francisco, and was currently employed as a Criminal Psychologist for the FBI. The boy, for that's all L could truly think of him as considering he was almost a decade older than him, had been working there for a matter of months, fresh out of college. But his accomplishments were impressive.

L scanned down the list of cases the boy had taken part in. Three of which had been cases L himself had assisted in, unknowing that the boy had played a crucial part in each of them until recently. Hence the detectives interest in the boy.

"Light Yagami," L whispered to himself, tasting the way the name fell across his tongue.

Top of his class. L noted a thirty four percent chance that the boy had a higher IQ than he did. That in itself sacred the detective. The only question that remained was whether or not the boy was brazen enough to work with. It was rare that L took an outsider into one of his investigations, but he couldn't help but think that the boy could be an asset. Hell, on three cases in the last year he'd already proven to be an asset.

'_But he's a boy with a desk job,' _L thought sulkily. _'What self respecting college student accepts a desk job at the FBI?' _Most of them wanted field work, excitement. Post-college kids were adrenaline junkies, wanting to take life faster than it was coming to them. It made L think that Light Yagami possibly wasn't up to the task of investigation, risking his life on the facts that he uncovered through gut instinct.

L scrolled further down the boy's profile when something caught his eye.

_Light Yagami gained acceptance into the Federal Bureau of Investigation for his exemplary profiling of notorious serial murdered, Beyond Birthday. _

'_Well that's interesting…'_

Waving his finger across the laptop's mouse pad L clicked on the attached file and began reading through the profile, not even noticing as Watari deposited a new cake and cookie to his left.

3B

The computer monitor sat alone on the desk in a darkened room. The swift, buzzing fan of the actual computer came from beneath the desk, keeping the room at a moderate temperature. A chat box blinked to life on the monitor screen, a single phrase illuminating the vacant room.

_Beyond has escaped. _

A/N: I know exactly where this is going. Whether or not I'll get there is another question entirely. I've a habit of starting fanfiction pieces and never finishing them. So we'll see how long my inspiration lasts.

Thank you for reading, I'd appreciate it if you reviewed.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who alerted this, I appreciate it. And much love to Dark Miko, TwilightHaseo, Blob no. 1, and Beyond Birthday's lover for reviewing.

I don't own Death Note.

Chapter Two

Matt was bored. The summer heat had dulled his brain, turning it into an all too familiar mush. Of course it was hard to discern if that particular brain melt was a product of summer boredom or the fact that he'd gone through all seven hundred and forty three of his video games twice in the last thirty six hours. It was a new personal record for him, but one that didn't contain that much accomplishment to it.

Briefly he contemplated trying to wash is hair out again. It was still pink from two weeks ago when he'd dyed it just to prove a point to his dumb, blonde best friend. Matt could have sworn the dye was temporary, but eighty nine washes with industrial strength shampoo later, he was beginning to think otherwise. Seriously, if the stuff was approved to clean oil from a goose's fucking feathers it should be able to remove the pink from his damn hair.

Flailing backwards the once red head pursed his lips and stared up at the ceiling of his room. Paint splatters and suspended chords smiled down at him mockingly. The grays, blues, and greens tangled together in a mixture of what was supposed to be entertainment, but had instead done nothing more than collect dried skin and particles that made up the dust of stogy uselessness. There was nothing to do.

Where was that stupid blonde call boy of his when he needed him?

Rolling off the mattress, he collapsed onto the floor in a make shift belly flop. Grunting, he crawled to his feet and stumbled out the door into the hallways of Wammy's House. It was quiet, which was never a good thing for a house of adolescent geniuses. Wearily, Matt set off for the room three doors down from his. He already knew Mello wasn't in his room; otherwise the walls of his own bedroom would be quaking with the occasional explosion and burst of righteous anger. But everything was quiet.

Matt didn't want to ask Near for help. Although he didn't hate the albino child with the same intensity his best friend did, the kid really wasn't one of the easiest people to get along with. Not to mention the creepy, souless eyes. Those just freaked Matt out.

The pink disgruntled teen reached the room of his best friends rival unnecessarily fast. Steeling himself for the conversation he knew he'd later regret, Matt knocked on the albino's door.

A commanding voice came from within. "You may only enter the inner sanctum if you have the appropriate password"

Matt sighed in annoyance. "I'm not in the mood Near, open the damn door"

"What is the password?"

Matt banged his head against the door, the pink locks that fell in front of his eyes did nothing to ease his growing sourness. Boredom really didn't suit Matt. Not that he was one for action, there was a reason he was only number three in Wammy's House. He lacked the drive that Near and Mello had to exemplify his brilliance. Though, the fact that he'd reached third place without even trying did say a lot about his intellect, a whole hell of a lot in fact. But no, Matt enjoyed simplicity more than anything else in life. That was why he was a gamer. Gaming was simplistic, reach the next level, get the points, and reach the next level. Only now, he was bored and ready for reality. At least he thought he was.

"Damnit Near, open the fucking door!" Matt yelled through the solid wood, pounding on it relentlessly.

A scratching noise came from the other side of the door and Matt backed away quickly, leaving room for Near to open the door a crack.

"I don't believe that's the password," the petite boy said solemnly. But he swung his door open fully and allowed Matt to enter.

Matt didn't contemplate why Near had given up so easily on his little game, and he didn't argue it either. Doing so would be counterproductive to his cause.

The inner sanctum, as Near called it, was a mess of towers and toys. Racetracks ran in loops through the air, held together by duct and electrical tape, some even touched the ceiling. Aparently Near's room defied all basic laws of physics. Matt ducked beneath a suspension bridge constructed of domino's and an erector set. Near brushed passed the older boy and sprawled himself back across the floor where monkeys, transformers, and stuffed toys were prepping for battle.

"Have you seen Mello?" Matt asked, observing the boy's playtime.

"No," was the albino's stoic response as Optimis Prime crushed Barney's neck.

"Oh." Matt looked at the floor awkwardly. Being in Near's room always set him on edge. It was disorienting to see a seventeen year old playing like a two year old, but in a way no two year old would ever play. "Well do you know where he might be?"

"Why would I know where Mello would be? He's not my property," Near said succinctly.

Matt scratched the back of his head, the awkwardness of speaking with Near grating on his brain. This conversation was going to get him nowhere, not that he'd ever expected it to, but it was a nice thing to cross of his "How to Find Mello" list. "Yeah, but he likes to torture you. I'd think it'd be an act of self preservation on your front to keep tabs on him."

"Well it may seem that way to you, but that is not the case. Mello may try to hurt me, but his endeavors have never been successful." Barney's head was now being placed on the tip of Optimus Prime's sword. When Optimus Prime had acquired a sword, Matt wasn't entirely sure.

"Well, I'll tell him you said that once I find him," Matt responded, backing out of the room slowly.

"You do that."

Matt shut the door to Near's "inner sanctum" and retreated quickly, shaking his head in wonder at the smaller boy's antics. He'd have to take a different approach to finding his elusive friend.

3B

Mello flicked another rock down off the beam and watched it plummet five stories downward. On the moment of impact a ringing clink echoed back up through his ears. He reached for another stone. He'd set up a line of thirty or so rocks beside him. Extending his arm outward, he let the rock fall, this time sure to make it hit the bell that was suspended beneath him. The clear, sharp ringing gave him some sense of satisfaction. It was the one thing in this hell hole that allowed him to feel something. Being above it all and looking down on what deserved to be looked down on.

Mello grabbed two rocks this time and chunked them downwards at the same time. Physics taught him that they'd reach the bottom at exactly the same moment, given he released them from his hand at precisely the same moment. The likelihood of that, Mello knew, was slim. But the thick thud that reverberated from below and back up towards where he sat, bouncing off of beams and stained glass, it told him his release had been perfect.

A lazy smile graced the blond teen's features. Gripping the beam he sat on, he swung his legs through the air and jumped to his feet, cautious of keeping his balance. To fall five stories onto concrete would in no way make this a good day. Not that it had been that pleasant to begin with.

Matt had been bitching about his hair again. For some reason, the fact that it was no longer red bothered him. It was the bitches own damn fault though. Mello hadn't made Matt dye his hair. In fact, he thought it was downright hilarious that what had begun as an act to get back at him had transformed itself into a glorious nightmare for the previous red head. Karma was awesome.

With practiced ease he walked to the wall of the clock tower, treating the beam as a balance beam and ignoring the fact that one misstep meant that he'd be, well, dead, and peered through the glass that made up the clock face. The dim lines of the hour and minute hands said it was nearing two in the afternoon. Matt would be sending the Calvary out for him now.

Mello scowled at that fact. Matt really could be the most annoying thing on the planet sometimes. Did Matt ever think that the reason he couldn't find him was because he didn't _want_ to be found? It was simple logic really. But then again, Matt just liked to use him for entertainment purposes more than anything else. Once the video games became trite, Mello became the game.

The blonde unwrapped a bar of chocolate and violently bit off a chunk, the creamy substance melting in his mouth deliciously. If Matt wanted a game Mello would give him one. The clock tower was usually one of the first places Matt checked himself after an hour of having others search. Mello figured the stack of neatly folded chocolate wrappers that decorated the banister he'd been sitting on were enough to let his friend know he'd been there. Hide and seek was a game that would never get old, as long as the stakes kept getting higher.

Suddenly, something from the street caught his eye. A small white car rolled steadily by the orphanage. Mello placed it at twelve miles an hour.

_'Idiot tourists,'_ he thought to himself. _'Don't they know how to use a GPS system?'_

Resting his forehead against the glass, his eyes followed the car down the street. At the end he watched it make a U-turn and drive back down. And then it did it again.

His game of hide and seek with Matt forgotten, Mello straightened, watching the car circle back around for a fourth time. A tingle drove itself down his spine in sync with the vehicle. Eyes narrowing, he zeroed in on the driver's window. The windows were tinted; a silhouette was the only thing he could clearly see.

Frowning, the blonde's eyes traced the car as it drove down the street once more, his rash mind building a tentative plan.

3B

"Five year olds, assemble!" Matt's voice rang out across the mess hall, currently populated by himself and eleven other children.

The eleven kindergartener's attention snapped to the pink haired teen. A few giggled at the sight of his fuchsia tufts of hair, framed by orange goggles, but a strict glare shut them up.

"Now, I've arranged you all into four groups," Matt declared, walking between the children he'd organized. As he'd been hoping, enough of them were occupying similar states of boredom that it didn't take much to get them to 'play' with him. Now as long as they didn't find out who exactly they'd be searching for, all would be good.

"Teams one and two, you are recon. T.1. I want you to scope out every inch of the Wammy interior, T.2. take the yards, I want every piece of chocolate and chocolate wrapper found! Team Three, you're in charge of surveillance, position yourselves in the monitor room, you guys will be my eye in the sky. And Team Four, you're on guard duty, protect the kitchen chocolate stash at all costs, do you understand me?"

"Sir yes sir!" The two five year old girls that comprised Team Four shouted.

"Good! Now move out troops!"

"SIR YES SIR!"

Like an angry stampede of buffalo the five year olds raced out of the room, falling in line with their respective missions. Matt chuckled after them. You'd think after living here for the two or three years they had, they'd be aware that searching for chocolate meant seeking out Mello, or the "Monster Barbie Doll" as the younger children referred to him. Sometime Matt wondered if the children Watari and Rodger brought in to the orphanage really were geniuses.

Matt followed after his herd of Mello Seekers, thinking out the best way to draw Mello out of where ever the hell he was hiding. A bell rang out signaling the start of the two o'clock hour.

With a smile, Matt headed for the clock tower. At two in the afternoon, the sun still hung dauntingly high in the sky, its heat drying the grass on the lawn before his eyes. Each blade crunched unhealthily beneath Matt's shoes. Digging through his jeans, the boy took out a cigarette and lighter. Bringing the tightly wrapped, white stick in between his lips, he struck the lighter and brought the flame to the tip of his cigarette. Drawing in fumes, he felt his muscles relax a bit.

He was on edge for some reason, and it wasn't just the offensive color of his hair. Something was wrong. He felt like there were ants crawling across his skin, digging their way down beneath the organ and into his blood stream. His gaming thumb was tingling.

The sound of squealing tires drew his gaze from the clock to the street just in time to watch a white sports car floor it down the road. That's when Matt knew.

Unconsciously his pace across the lawn and towards the clock tower sped up, until he was flat out running. Cigarette bobbing uncomfortably between his teeth, he raced for the stone building, hoping to any and all gods that Mello would be there.

'_Pleasepleasepleaseplease…' _he mentally chanted, the words desperately ping-ponging themselves around his brain.

He was wheezing as he reached the other side of the lawn. The tar building up in his lungs was deriding him painfully. His cigarette had fallen from his mouth somewhere on the lawn, and he hadn't even noticed. His hands were drenched with sweat, though he'd been running less than thirty seconds. Wrenching the door to the tower open, he dashed up the tower stairs, clambering loudly. Pigeons squawked indignantly as he tore through their nests, mentally cursing the droppings he slipped on. He could've cared less for the ugly poultry.

The stairs ended on the third story of the building. Mello would usually climb the rest of the way up to the banisters by scaling the walls. But the beams were vacant; empty of the scornful, moody, blonde Matt had been hoping would be there. All he found was pigeon shit and the light sent of chocolate.

3B

_Ten Minutes Earlier_

Mello grumbled across the lawn. His boots trudging over the yellowing grass quickly, drawing sloppy lines across the yard as he ran. He reached the wrought iron fencing to watch the white car meander by once more. That made thirteen circles in the last five minutes. They knew something.

Agilely, Mello jumped and grasped the top of the fence. Swinging himself over, he dropped to the asphalt. Scanning over the ground he spotted a rock. Picking up the stone he waited for the car to turn around and head back towards him. As expected, the vehicle made a U-turn and started rolling towards Mello. Heart hammering wildly, he waited, eyes focused on the windshield, the glare of the sun keeping him from getting a look at the person inside the car.

The car came closer, slowing down even more as it neared the boy. Some primal part of Mello's mind urged him to run, to flee in face of the oncoming, steel predator. But the more modern part of his brain, the logical part said to wait as his reckless spirit told him to win, beat the threat.

The car was less than ten feet from him and inching forward slowly when he hurled the rock at the windshield. Briefly, he wondered just how many times that rock would come back to haunt his ass.

Unexpectedly, the car swerved out of the way of the rock, the driver having been expecting the boy's actions. Burning rubber filled the air as the car made a tight turn, traction control keeping the car on the road and out of the bushes.

Mello stumbled backwards, falling against the iron fence, the car coming directly towards him. Eyes wide, he scrambled to his feet as the vehicle came to a stop directly behind him. Leaping wildly his fingers grasped the top of the fence, boots climbing up against the pikes that made up the fence.

His ears picked up a fast coming whoosh from behind him and he dropped to the ground. The pain that erupted as his head and butt bounced off the asphalt drove tiny explosions through his skull, but it was better than having a baseball bat make jell-o out of his brain. Then a boot made contact with the side of his head, and the world went black.

3B

Near placed another card atop the tower, the pyramid already reached over four feet high. Skillfully he tilted the card against another, balancing them precariously. Backing away from the tower, he turned to grab another card, and then came the fluttering sound of doom.

Whipping around, he watched as the pyramid collapsed, cards sweeping across the floor. Blinking emotionlessly Near scanned across the mess for the culprit. A crumpled piece of paper lay innocently in the midst of the wreckage. Large black eyes stared at it from across the room and then to his bedroom window, mind rapidly putting two and two together.

A/N: So this chapter was actually harder for me to write then the last, mainly because I'm not as comfortable with Mello, Matt, and Near as I am with Light. I'm hoping this will change soon. Also, I know things have been a little dry at the moment, but I'm more concerned with setting everything up. With the coming chapters things should be getting juicer.

Anyway, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! I love you guys lots!

Chapter Three

Light walked through the threshold of his one bedroom apartment, the clock on the wall reading one in the morning, as was customary. He had caffeine to thank for the hours he kept. Not that he was paid overtime, as low down on the ladder he was. Dropping the keys onto the coffee table that also served as his dining room, he moved through the cramped space. He didn't bother to turn the lights on, his eyes already having adjusted to the minimal light of a single computer screen. With a heavy sigh, Light just stood there in the dark, collecting his thoughts.

According to Naomi, he was set to become L's shiny new pawn. The news couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time. If the great L was asking after him, he was also researching him, maybe even following him, though the latter thought made him scoff. He was arrogant, not delusional. And he'd just gotten comfortable with his current residence. Now it seemed as if everything were coming at him, two different semi-trucks, one an oil tanker the other purified oxygen, both moving for him at sixty miles an hour. The result of this, no matter how he looked at it, would be flames.

He settled into his desk; mind heavy as lead, his feet lightly knocking against the computer which sat on the floor beneath him as he faced the monitor. Slowly, he removed a ball point pen from the pencil holder to his left and disassembled the writing utensil with practiced ease. Pulling open his desk side drawer he removed the contents, case files, receipts, and scrap pages, he then took the pen'd ink cartridge and inserted it through the tiny hole he'd drilled into the bottom of the drawer. The false bottom perked upwards smoothly, despite the years it had been since he actually looked in the drawer. Removing the plywood, he glared at the innocent envelope that smiled up at him.

Gingerly, he picked up the cursed thing. It'd been sitting inside the hidden compartment of his desk for almost five years now. Bidding it's time for the opportune moment, which apparently was now. Light didn't know how he felt about that. Time had flown by, that was for sure.

Despite his constant grumbling, Light enjoyed what he was doing. Though Naomi refused to let him in on the chase, his work still filled him with elation. The trembling he felt as he entered the frigid, unyielding clarity of the criminal mind was beyond comparison. It was like a drug. To place himself in the very soles these monsters had run ragged, to trace their mental steps, piece together the puzzle of insanity that had no definitive edges. Light was pretty sure that the only reason he himself hadn't gone over the metaphorical edge was because he had been granted to opportunity to pick at the minds of those that had taken a flying leap over it.

But he'd known it was only temporary, it wouldn't last. Nothing in his life ever did. The monotony, that's what would kill him in the end. Once he found that piece of satisfaction, contentment, that's when he'd go over the edge. That's when he'd feel useless.

There was too much filth in the world for him to sit idly by and just watch the sun rise. The air would still be polluted, infested with the smog of lies, treachery, and murder. The sun rise was red, tinted by the blood of innocents that had died. There were too many people the world would be better off without. But he wasn't so naïve to think that killing them was all it would take. He'd seen into too many of their dirty minds to know that_ it_ was rooted there, a stubborn tree that could either flourish or wither. What shaped the tree was the nurturing that sapling was provided, how often it was watered, weeded, and what is was taught.

He didn't know if he could've taken it. Cleansing the world on his own, Light didn't even want to begin contemplating the methods he would've used. Again, it all came down to nurture, the way a person's life was lived. He'd see too many lunatics, crazy from the guilt and the theory that what they were doing was in the right. Despite his superior mental capacities in comparison to the masses, he wasn't sure if his mind was sound enough to keep sight of the long term mission in face of the moral sacrifice.

What Light did know was that, if he accepted the envelope's contents he could kiss his career as a criminal psychologist and profiler goodbye. He'd been with the Bureau for less than a year, and no matter how many connections Naomi had, she was still a woman in law enforcement. And too damn trusting for her own good. No, if he opened that envelope he was done here. No more case files, no more salty air, no more Indian food.

With an exhausted sigh Light fell back into his desk chair, reclining it so he could glare at the ceiling of his apartment. He could just ignore it. That particular option wasn't unavailable to him. But it also wasn't as desirable. That would end badly. He shook his head, hitting himself lightly against the head for even considering such a foolish notion. He was Light Yagami, and he'd decided a long time ago that running was not something he would do. He was committed to his vision, to _their _vision.

Spinning swiftly in his chair, he flipped open his laptop and logged on. In the upper left corner of his desktop was a Word Document labeled "resignation." Double clicking on the icon he fluidly opened his email account and drew up his boss's address. Attaching the document, he hit send and let the little devil fly off into cyberspace. There was nothing else to be written. By tomorrow morning he'd be getting a nasty call from Naomi, but by then there was little she could do.

Moving out of the chair he set off down the hall, prepping to pack.

3B

Watari had said that he shouldn't blame himself, but despite the old man's reassuring words, L couldn't help but feel responsible. Then again, the guilt he felt was nothing compared to that of his caretaker's. He hadn't been the one in charge of Beyond after all. What did that mean then, L wondered, if he could tell Watari not to blame himself yet would still feel a shred of responsibility for the deranged child's actions.

Beyond had been out to get him. Taunting him, calling for him, like some dark siren whose call was as shrill as a banshee's and just as un-ignorable. Beyond had wanted to beat him, L, not Watari, _L._ Sometimes there was more to that title than the public realized. And sometimes he wished he could just shake it all off. At least that would take care of the guilt.

A minor bout of turbulence shook the cabin of the private jet. L clutched his knees tighter to his chest. He'd been all for hijacking a 747, his calculations showed that doing so would've been quicker than waiting the three hours it took for Watari to arrange a private flight. But Watari put his foot down, something about remaining as inconspicuous as possible in face of L's new case.

It was a nightmare come to life. But worse than that, it was a horror from the past, one he thought he'd locked away eight years ago. If there was one thing about B L didn't take credit for with a guilty conscience it was his insanity. L knew perfectly well that Beyond wasn't insane, twisted and sadistic maybe, but his doppelganger most certainly wasn't lacking in clarity. In fact, the man viewed things in a frighteningly lucid manner, disregarding the grey areas and seeing the world in a brilliant contrast of rainbow. There was no black or white in B's color spectrum, only the blood he could drown one in, the blue of a flesh wound, and the yellow-tinge of embalming fluid. It came from the man's eyes, and those L knew he'd been born with.

Twenty four hour surveillance, four stories of earth piled over the cell, and concrete walls three feet thick, the man still managed to escape. At least it wasn't a mistake to have considered the boy a potential successor L acknowledged bitterly.

Staring out the plane's window, L watched the American landscape move beneath him sullenly, not being able to help the memories that had only begun to resurface in the past hours. He recalled the surprise, the offense he'd taken, feeling it a personal insult to have one of his successors – at that point the only one – run away. Despite being a legend in the underworld, L was still human, and a proud one at that. Most of all though, L had committed his past feelings of elation and determination, in face of Beyond's running, to memory. The sour bile of disgust made L cringe in his seat, the tarnished emotions, the very things he strived for, he remembered those the best.

He'd been happy to hear that B had ran away, for the first time in his career as a detective he felt as if he'd have a decent opponent. B was someone from his level, a runaway teenager, but hopefully the challenge L had been searching for. And then B had killed someone. It only served to make the game that much sweeter. B had been wrong in thinking that he had to work that hard to gain L's attention, the boy's existence and running had been enough. But L recalled the glee he felt when Watari handed the pictures of Believe Bridesmaid's corpse.

B had had an influence on L beyond that of any other criminal he'd gone up against. B made L feel lost, yet dangerous at the same time. B made L feel as if he was standing in the pitch black of nothingness, gun in his pale hands, not knowing if that weapon was pointed at himself or someone else. And when B had been caught, the disappointment L had expected to come with an easy victory, it never appeared. L remained awash in a sea of excitement, his own flavor of insanity.

"L!" The Detective jumped at the sudden shout. Cursing himself for letting his guard down, L turned to see Watari come rushing into the cabin from the cockpit, dismay evident across the old man's wrinkles. It was rare to see Quillish Wammy as anything other than grandfatherly, even when he was touting a Parker Hale M85 from the open door of a helicopter. Staring quizzically at his caretaker, L nodded for the man to continue.

"L," the elder man gasped, "B's taken Mello."

Their game wasn't over.

3B

He smelled coffee, and strawberry. There was a lot of strawberry. Even the leather his face was currently pressed up against held the sickeningly sweet scent of preserved fruit. Mello scowled into the cushion, his stomach turning in protest to the awkward mix of cowhide and jam, or maybe that was the concussion talking.

He attempted to push himself upwards, but it proved to be a rather difficult endeavor given that his hands were tied behind his back with what felt like duct tape. How original. The blond squirmed, turning his body over until he rolled off the couch and onto the marble floor. His head let out a painful smack as it was once more abused, tiny fireworks exploding in bursts of light before his eyes, but at least he could breath freely now.

Slowly he let his eye lids rise, closing them every once in a while, adjusting to the harsh light. _'Chandeliers,'_ he thought. _'The room is filled with chandeliers.'_ Gradually his eyes came fully open and took in the sight above him.

Thousands of crystals glimmered down at him in tinkling, warm light, like raindrops frozen in time. The marble floor beneath him was cold, and he shivered as a light breeze blew through the room and across his face. Turning his head to the right he took in what more of the room he could see from his position on the floor. It was a ballroom he realized, surprise adding itself generously to the mix of pain and disorienting shock that already occupied his mind. Golden marble stretched out into an endless sea, stopping only as a wall of gilded banisters and white stained glass rose towards the ceiling in an intricate swirl of light and shadow.

With a grunt Mello pulled himself upwards into a sitting position, leaning his back against the black, leather couch.

Glancing around, Mello's head snapped up as he registered the quiet opening of a door. A light shuffle rose across the empty space, growing louder as the individual drew closer to where Mello sat.

Stilling, Mello ceased to breathe, all of his focus centered on the individual. There was no doubt in Mello's mind that this was his kidnapper. The only thing that was keeping the blonde upright was the adrenaline, coursing so fast through his bloodstream that it acted as a stilt. He felt more the heard the figure stop just behind the couch, staring down at him with a gaze that possessed all the intensity of a bolt of lightning. It set the hairs across his body on edge, sizzling with electricity and the desire to never look at what stood behind him in the eye.

Sadly, Mello didn't have that luxury.

He felt the couch tilt backwards behind him, the individual seeming to be against just walking around the piece of furniture and instead was climbing over it. The figure moved slowly, with the practiced ease of a predator, yet there was something dainty in the dips Mello felt in the couch. It was almost as if his assailant was moving tentatively, childlike in curiosity, yet fearful of moving too quickly and setting him off. It reminded Mello of the toddlers at the orphanage that would crawl over him when he passed out in the living room.

A set of legs straddled his head, the figures body coming to rest on the directly behind where he sat. One spindly leg leaned itself against his left arm, the other against his right, effectively pinning the bound boy to where he sat. Long fingers combed through his hair and Mello had to fight the urge to flinch in disgust at the touch. The fingers clenched around his hair and roughly pulled his head back. The assailant then leaned over him, bringing their faces less than an inch from each other, thin lips, curled in a leering smirk of victory, almost kissing his forehead.

Blood red eyes pierced Mello's, and the blood that ran through his own veins froze over, the adrenaline that had been keeping him conscious becoming no better that molasses.

His mind supplied the name, though every fiber of him wished it hadn't, and it came out from his mouth in a whispered hush. "Beyond Birthday."

Now there was nothing but fear.

3B

Matt drummed his fingers furiously against the arm rest of the chair Roger had situated him in. Two feet away sat Near, absentmindedly twirling his hair around his finger. For some reason the action pissed Matt off to no end. Near always twirled his hair, it was a normal thing for the freak do. But how the hell could he act so natural when everything was so _wrong_.

_'There's no proof Mello was kidnapped,'_ Matt reminded himself. _'He could just as well be hiding somewhere.'_ If there was one thing Matt was absolutely good at, it was lying to himself when it came to his best friend.

The door behind the two boys opened and Roger stepped into the office.

Matt was on his feet in an instant. "What's going on!" he demanded.

"Matt, sit down," Roger commanded.

"But - "

"_Sit._"

The boy complied reluctantly and returned to his seat. As Roger sat behind his desk, the expression the older man directed towards the boys was all Matt needed to know.

_'Shit,'_ he thought. Matt knew this was Mello's fault. The blonde was too damned reckless, never thinking things through, just trying to prove himself. Internally Matt berated himself for leaving his foolish friend's side. He could've prevented this, done something to stop it, knocked some sense into the thick skull he sometimes suspected didn't even contain a brain. That or he could've been taken too, thrown into the trunk of that white sports car along with Mello. God knew it'd be better than sitting in this office with a condescending old man and an albino teenager that possessed no human emotions whatsoever.

"Matt," Roger spoke finally, looking sternly over at the teen. "I know what you're thinking, and this is not your fault."

Matt laughed snidely. "Oh I know that, it's that leather wearing bitches fault is what it is!"

"Language!" Roger admonished. "That is no way to talk about your friend Matt."

"But it's true." A mechanical voice flooded the office with white light as the overhead projector flickered to life, casting the far wall of Roger's office with a large, gothic L.

"L, it's nice to hear from you," Near said politely, turning to face the projector screen.

"Near, Matt," the letter acknowledged. "I've just received a scan of the note Beyond left - "

"Note?" Mat interrupted the detective. "What Note?"

"The note left in Near's room," L replied simply.

Matt turned to face the boy in question, fire exploding in his eyes. "There was a _note?_ YOU HAD A NOTE AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?"

Nonplussed by Matt's shouting, Near answered without moving his eyes from the L on the screen. "I already showed it to Roger, there was no need for me to inform you of it as well."

"THE HELL THERE WASN'T! MY BESY FRIEND JUST GOT FUCKING KIDNAPPED!"

"Excuse me, but I have very little time for your uninspired language Matt. Near took the appropriate measures. The note was tossed through his window an estimated three minutes after Mello was assaulted. Knowing what I do of the boy, Beyond would have needed to assault him in order to take him as effectively as he did," L continued, brushing Matt's outburst aside.

The screen flashed and the L was replaced by the image of a crumpled piece of paper. On it were the words, written in what looked to be a green crayon, 'I took the boy for Jam, he looked like he could use some.'

"As you can see, there is little we can actually gain from the note, other than the fact that it actually was Beyond who kidnapped Mello, and that the man is taunting us."

"What makes you so sure?" Matt inquired. Beyond Birthday was a legend amongst the children of Wammy's house, and something of a cautionary tale. From what he knew the man had ran from Wammy's after the first in line, A, had committed suicide. Weather it was because of A's suicide or not, no one actually knew, some went so far as to think that Beyond had actually killed A himself. So far there was no proof to that claim. L had caught Beyond sometime in 2002, Matt remembered, same year the LABB case had begun.

"While Beyond was frolicking through the streets of Los Angeles, he disguised himself as me and went by the name Rue Ryuzaki. He also ate a lot of Jam," L admitted after considering Matt's question for a moment. "I have no doubt in the security of Wammy's House, nor do I believe that there was a leak of information to anyone outside of the orphanage. I've also asked the authorities to keep Beyond's escape from the public, which means that there's little chance of someone framing B. "

"Why are you telling us this?"

"Why?" L asked as if he'd thought the reason was obvious. "Because I'd like you to assist me in capturing Beyond."

3B

L wasn't sure if he'd made the best decision in bringing Near and Matt into his game with Beyond. But the rules had changed. Beyond was using his and L's past to get at something, and this time L was certain B's goal wasn't him. Out of ever Wammy resident, B knew the best that L did not affiliate himself with the establishment, for the safety of the children and himself. It had been what set B off from the beginning. No, if B were to go after L again he'd do something different, something that would get L's attention, and only L's attention. Kidnapping one of his successors, that message was intended for someone else. L already had a vague idea who.

If, however, B was going to use his successor against him, then L was going to use his successors against B.

He didn't doubt that the two teenagers had the minds to manage it. What they did lack though was discipline. They existed in a comfort zone, each of them, even Mello –though he refused to admit it, had grown complacent with the order of succession. Near was coasting through his subjects, just doing enough to maintain his position. Mello had grown more concerned with pranking the top student rather than actually beating him to be first in line. And Matt, L could tell that Matt just didn't care.

This just might be the push the three of them needed to reach their full potential. L just hoped it didn't end up being too hard of a push. They were children, inexperienced in life, and had no idea how the mind of a criminal really worked, never mind all the past cases and crime simulations the orphanage had had them go through. They'd spent their life behind an iron fence, sheltered from what lay outside of it.

L had briefly entertained the notion of bringing Light Yagami into the fold as well. The boy's background and knowledge of B was paralleled only by L's own, and that was because L had watched the murderer grow up. But L had quickly scratched the plan, the last thing he needed was a mediocre investigator endangering the lives of his successors more than he already was. There was a time and place for things and this was a Wammy matter, not Light Yagami's place or time.

Yes, L thought certainly. Yagami could wait for a later case. This was about him, B, and his next successor. Whoever the hell that would be.

.

.

.

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A/N: As I write this, my friend is trying to build a rope swing in an abandoned oil pipe. This can only end in tears…

I really wanted to get further with Beyond and Mello, but the two of them were being difficult. XP Plus, I need to go pack….

Again, thanks for reading, please review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I apologize for the lack of update these past two weeks or so. I got caught in Cosplay Mode and neglected every other creative endeavor of mine. Heh. But the chapter is here!

I wrote a good portion of the B Mello scene three hours to the right of midnight, so it's a little loopy. But I think it works for them.

I have plotted most of this story out now, which means there's a pretty good chance of me actually finishing it! It would be a first. But I think I'm going to have fun once I get into the meat of things, which coincidentally is next chapter.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review!

Disclaimer: Death Note characters are not mine.

Chapter Four

"You resigned!" Naomi Misora's shrill voice echoed out from Lights cell phone speaker and through the airport terminal. Nodding apologetically to a family of four, Light hurried down the hall towards gate 3C, pulling his luggage along, boarding pass tucked neatly into his jacket pocket. He prayed that the heavy clicking of his shoes against the grey tiled floor would be enough to drown out the outraged woman, but going by the looks he was getting from strangers that wasn't the case.

"I told you I would only be working at the Bureau temporarily Naomi," Light interrupted in the vain hope that she'd shut up. "I don't know why you're so shocked." Okay, actually he did, and he'd been expecting her adverse reaction. But that didn't make the tone of voice she was using any more tolerable.

"Light, you _resigned_!" the woman roared, her shout laced with floored disbelief. "After only, what, five months! I can't believe you would actually do this, that you'd be so idiotic to throw away _everything!_"

Light heaved another mental sigh, the eighth one for this particular conversation. It wasn't as if he didn't know what he'd just done to himself by quitting. For the second time in his life he was running on faith, faith that he could survive all that was about to happen. He couldn't bring himself to regret the decision to leave San Francisco though. Either it was too early for him to _actually _regret that particular decision, or the sea air had killed most of his brain cells. Either way, he knew somewhere along the line he'd be screwed.

Light sighed, half heartedly listening as Naomi Misora continued to rant at him. Smiling politely, he handed the flight attendant his boarding pass and moved into the tunnel that connected to the airplane, ignoring the woman's concerned glance at his raging cell phone. His seat was in first class, how that arrangement had been made, Light had no idea. Taking the seat by the window, he fumbled with the envelope tucked in his breast pocket.

Smirking slightly, he interrupted Naomi's pointless ramblings of annoyance. "I'll miss you."

Silence met his statement, and for one glorious moment Light thought he'd quieted her. Reclining, he let his mind revel in its ability to actually hear itself.

"Don't you pull that seduction crap on me Yagami Raito!" But of course, nothing ever lasted. With an internal groan he brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose irately. "I'm not some blithering female, or male for that matter, that you can charm with that silver tongue of yours!"

"Naomi," Light shushed her again. "I'm already on a plane. Your shouting at me is useless, and frankly, it's giving me a migraine."

"You're on a plane?" she asked in shock. "Where the hell are you going?"

"On vacation." With that he hung up and turned his phone off.

3B

Skilled fingers combed lightly through Mello's hair, every now and then they brought a towel dowsed in antiseptic crème to his scalp, cleaning away the blood and dirt that had crusted through his hair. The strangeness of the situation was not lost on the teenage genius, his kidnapper, actually bandaging his wounds, gently and carefully. The darker portion of Mello's mind believed it was nothing but a game, the murderer caring for him so he'd lower his guard, and then the real pain would come, in what form he could only imagine.

Beyond had kept him tied up though. The duct tape was digging into his wrists painfully as he continued to fight against the restraints. The adhesive was already leaving faint scars across his flesh, like acid eating at the skin cells. Futilely, Mello squirmed as Beyond brought another stinging dose of disinfectant to his head, his hands pulling away from each other and against the bonds.

"Stop that!" Beyond admonished playfully, his free hand reaching down the quell Mello's fidgeting arms. "I know burn scars look cool, _especially _mine because they're so _pretty_, but I don't think they're something you want to get from _tape_."

Mello tried to escape from Beyond's hands, but the thin man gripped painfully onto the boy's shoulders, pulling him back into place. B enjoyed the feeling of having Mello quivering beneath his hold. The boy's back shuddered as it was gently placed back against the leather couch. Smirking, B spread his fingers out against the younger boy's skull, applying pressure to the colorful bruises that had blossomed across the skin. Mello let out a sharp gasp, B's touch eliciting an unwanted wince from his thinning lips. Beyond reveled in the sound of the light pain, his eyes soaking in the colors that went with the sting.

It was beautiful, he thought, continuing to pet at the boy's hair, occasionally letting his fingers stray down the back of the boy's neck just to watch him squirm. B's smirk wound its way into a smile as he listened to the boy's breath still. If only the child knew, the real ceasing of inhalation, it could come just as easily. A twinge of viciousness spun its way down the length of Beyond's arms, through the tendons of his fingers, and into the tips of his nails. Delightedly, he raked his nails through Mello's hair, eyes narrowing in pleasure at the sound of the boy's hissing. Drawing the roughly chewed out keratin down the neck that lay openly beneath him, B fought the urge to growl in delectation as he drew bright red ridges along the flawless skin.

Slowly he brought his head level with Mello's, poising his lips right against the lobe of the younger boys. "I _would _however be more than willing to set you on _fire_," he whispered tauntingly.

Mello gaped in shock, fighting the urge to turn and stare at his kidnapper. Beyond Birthday's actions had taken him completely off guard. He'd labeled the serial killer as one for experimentation, the type that would care for his prey peculiarly, relishing the different ways another could die. Beyond Birthday was the type to inflict pain, draw salted daggers across open flash wounds, saw off one finger at a time, alternating hands and curdling the blood so the body wouldn't spoil, cut open a man's skull just to watch dust particles settle across the nerve endings. Or so he thought. Instead, Mello found himself being toyed with like an insect. He felt like a fly, wings crushed and leashed to an escaped convict as a dry source of entertainment.

Mello had been awaiting torture, what he found was a child-like bully.

"You're quiet? _Why?_" B asked, his voice soft as he removed his hands from Mello's hair and leaned back against the couch, staring sullenly at the back of Mello's head. He wanted vocal protests, questions, something more than the pensive silence the teenager before him offered. It was _dull_.

Despite the fact that is felt as if his vocal chords were dripping with hot glue, scalding yet thickly bonded shut, Mello was able to articulate a perfectly caustic response. "Aren't you going to, I don't know, torture me? I can't imagine you brought me here just to give me a scalp massage."

B cocked his head to the side in amusement. It was cute the way the boy acted tough. "Oh I'm not _insane_, more philosophically _unsettled_."

With a stretch Beyond reached over his head and grasped the back of the couch. Arching his body upward he vaulted over the piece of furniture, he smiled carelessly at the rush of air moving through his hair. With a soft flop he rolled onto the floor and started grappling beneath the couch, hand patting around the plush carpeting for the blade he knew he'd left there. Nimble fingers enclosed around the sharp metal, the thin blade cutting into his own callused flesh. Grinning in face of his protesting nerves, he drew the blade out from under the couch and climbed back over the seat. With a flurried movement he sliced the tape off of Mello's hands.

"Honestly, it's _hardly_ worth the effort to harm you more than I _already_ have." He paused for a moment, and then added, "physically at least."

Beyond watched, face caught between childish mockery and enthusiasm, as Mello brought his wrist's into his chest, simultaneously turning to face the murderer while scooting back a good fifteen feet from him. Mello didn't know if it was the guy's ragged jeans, or his overlarge gray tee shirt that hung off one shoulder, revealing a skeletal stature, but something in his mind demanded that he reject the creature sitting in front of him. It was his survival instincts telling him to get as far away from the other human as possible. Though Mello was still debating if 'human' was the appropriate classification for Beyond Birthday.

The man wasn't unclean, could he use a new wardrobe, yes, but Mello had to admit that the man was well groomed for an escaped convict. Rapidly, Mello's mind assessed the fact that they seemed to be residing in an expensive ballroom, which possibly meant that B was receiving copious amounts of financial assistance from some outside source. It wasn't as of the man could just walk to the bank. But, there was something else about Beyond, an entity separate from his appearance, that set Mello on edge. Like a pheromone, secreted from B's pores, warding off others, telling them that beneath the Cheshire cat smile was a madness that would devour them. For Mello, that was a lot to take in.

Beyond cocked his head to the side again and extended his head outward. Like a turtle emerging from its shell, the man managed to stay firmly seated on the couch, yet come to hover three feet from the actual couch. "You look a _little _pale," he commented. "Perhaps it would make you _feel _better if I were to skin your back?"

He asked the question as if he were suggesting a message, something playfully innocent and designed to benefit Mello's health, yet containing a naughty undertone.

"I could even drill tiny screws into the _bone_ and stretch rubber bands across your _back_!" B suggested helpfully. "If you're _flexible_ you'd probably be able to flick them yourself. Make _some_ music!"

"No that's okay," Mello stammered, unconsciously scooting further away from the madman.

At that moment a phone rang from the confines of B's pockets. Glancing at the pocket as if it had committed some unspeakable crime, B extracted the phone. Mello assumed he had caller ID because the moment B's red eyes took in the lit up screen, they widened in excitement and, if Mello was reading the man correctly, a small tinge of lust.

"_Darling?_" B purred into the phone.

Mello strained his ear to hear who was on the other end of the phone, but he was too far away to register any sound other than B's own voice.

"Oh _goodie _you're coming!" B replied to whoever he was conversing with. "I _so_ look forward to hearing more from you _darling!_" Hanging up, Beyond continued to bounce like a two year old in his seat for a minute, hands shaking with impatience.

After a moment of what Mello took to be consideration, Beyond jumped to his feet and skipped over to a large table that was situated a ways behind the couch. Standing hesitantly, Mello followed after B, trying to make out the contents of the table. His eyes widened as he was met with the sight of a giant board game unlike any he'd ever seen. The board was about three feet by three feet, vaguely Mello placed it as belonging to some sort of fantasy role playing game. He'd seen kids at Wammy's playing something like it. But the pieces on B's board, they were an amalgamation of every type of board game piece one could find. Chess and checkers pieces scattered themselves across the square spaces accompanied by jacks, Monopoly pieces, and die cast race cars. Mello was pretty sure he even saw a few cardboard game pieces from Candyland.

The blonde was used to grand acts of immaturity, having grown up in a house of child geniuses, but the sight before him was just wrong. But as he watched the grown man skip happily around his insane gaming creation, Mello couldn't help but think it fit B.

Coming to stand on the side of the table opposite B, Mello asked, "Who was that? On the phone?"

He watched as Beyond picked up one of the Candyland pieces, Queen Frostine, and moved it closer to Princess Lolly. It concerned Mello that he was able to recall the names of the characters, but it frightened him even more that he felt a little put out over the board's lack of Gloppy the Chocolate Monster, who had been Mello's favorite character as a kid.

"That was my _darling_," B replied dreamily. "Yes, _Darling_ is coming to see _me_! He reminds me of _A _you know, brilliant, a _visionary_, true believer in all that justice crap. He's a _romantic_. I suppose that's why I adore him so _much_."

Mello relaxed slightly, his shoulders were still tensed, but the pain in his head was abating. He was pretty sure he'd been drugged before regaining consciousness if the muddled soup his brain was rapidly turning into was anything to go by.

"What do you believe in?" Mello asked, not entirely sure where the question was coming from, or why he was even relaxing in the presence of a mass murderer.

"_Me_?" Beyond blinked at the question. "I believe_ in_ death. Taxes, _not _so much. But death is very real."

The murderer leaned across the table and plucked a small red plastic mouse for the board, delicately pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, and then stuck it right before Mello's eyes. The man had to climb onto the table to do so. Mello blinked at the plastic toy, its petite nose barely touching his own. The thing had lacked eyes Mello noticed, it seemed that a pair had been carved into the plastic, almost as big as the thing's body. The blonde jumped as B abruptly slammed the toy down next to Princess Lolly, directly beside a black knight.

"You _remind _me of myself _Mello_," B said, crawling closer to the teenager. The man settled himself into a crouch that in no way could have been comfortable. Drawing his knees against his chest, Beyond stuck his thumbnail in between his teeth and began gnawing on it lightly. "I'm really _happy _I got to kidnap you. Out of _every_ orphanage in that place, I got _you_."

Mello took a step back, recoiling from B as if he'd just fired a G36 point blank into the man's head, which he was seriously wishing he had. "I am nothing like you," Mello spat.

"_Yes_ you _are_." The man reached his hand out and gently stroked the hair from Mello's eyes, tucking it behind the blonde's ear. "I see it in your _eyes_ Little Dear. Yes, Little _Dear_, I think that's what I'll call you from now _on._" B chuckled, dark, silken clumps of hair falling across his face, obscuring the haunting red orbs from view. Moving forward B glanced up at Mello from just beneath the fringe of his bangs, painting the picture of a grotesquely, attractive wraith with all the innocence of a poison apple in Mello's eyes.

"You have the _jazz_," B purred in delight. "The _spark_ to get what you want through any means _necessary_. You got bored didn't you?"

"As interesting as this all is, you're really not my type," Mello quipped acidly, his entire body on the defensive. For what felt like the hundredth time in the single hour he'd been awake, he was backing away from the creature sitting before him. Really, Mello had to wonder, what the hell possessed him to get closer to the maniacal murderer?

B giggled, as if sensing Mello's thoughts. "You find me _alluring _don't you?" B asked mockingly, climbing down from his table and coming to stand directly before the blonde. He stood a good four inches taller than Mello, which only served to make the officious grin he was gracing the boy with all the more dangerous. "Well, I _suppose _there is _one _big difference between you and _I_," Beyond drawled in mild contemplation.

"What's that?"

Beyond leaned in closer to Mello, resting his cheek on the boy's shoulder, lips tickling against his ear like a glass feather. Roughly nipping Mello's ear lobe B whispered in a caricature of passion, "_I _would have thrown a bigger rock."

3B

"L, are you sure you want to reveal yourself to them?" Watari asked, dropping a suitcase onto the bed of the penthouse's master room, never mind the fact that he knew the bed was not even going to be used during their stay. He couldn't help but grimace in distaste at L's sleeping habits, or lack thereof.

L swiveled around from the desk that was set against the wall, lazily rotating in circles, knees brought up to his chest. He stared over the caps of his knees as Watari began to pull white sweater after sweater from the luggage.

"They come from the House, and they're just as involved in this as we are," L remarked casually, motioning for Watari to pass him his laptop. The older man raised his eyebrows at the twenty year old's impatience but passed him the laptop bag without comment.

Logging in, L ran through his email account and clicked open the files Roger had sent him. It included all the records of Beyond Birthday's stay in the California Penitentiary along with the instructor reports and psychological evaluations of his top three successors.

If he was being honest with himself, he really wasn't all that comfortable introducing himself, in person, to the boys. He would have been fine presenting himself as nothing more than a former Wammy's House resident, fashioning a cover as close to the truth as possible that to operate within the confines of. He would've preferred something akin to that. But as he sped through the information Roger had sent him in on each child, he felt doing so would've been an insult to their intelligence. Not to mention things would've probably become a little messier once they discovered his true identity. It was simpler in the end to just come out and say he was L. But that didn't mean Watari had to like it.

"Showing yourself puts them in more danger than if they just stayed at Wammy's," the older gentleman said stiffly.

L glanced over his shoulder at the man. "We both know I'm not B's true target. And I doubt he'd take a glance at any of the other children besides the top three. Bringing them here, though it may not be safer, gives us a twenty eight percent chance of dealing directly with Beyond."

"And that's what you want." It wasn't a question but a resigned statement.

"It's the best way to get the case over with quickly," L said succinctly.

Watari stared at his charge emotionlessly. "This is Beyond we're talking about L, not a band-aid."

The detective didn't need Watari to illuminate further on his point. There was no way Beyond would make this case quick and virtually painless. The man wasn't the type to allow himself to be easily removed from L's skin, ripped off, leaving nothing more than a sharp sting in his wake. B wanted a game, an opponent, and he wanted to leave an impression in the flesh of every player on the board. At the moment, the player whose flesh was being seared off the most was Mello's.

It wasn't destiny that led L to pass his knowledge of Beyond Birthday on to Mello. At least L sincerely hoped it wasn't, if it was than the Powers That Be possessed a cruelness humanity would never be able to survive. Reading deeper into Mello's file, L sighed. Of all his successors, Mello was the one most like Beyond Birthday, and it scared the shit out of L. That was why he'd thrown every scrap of information regarding Beyond at the kid. It wasn't luck, or destiny, or some other such crap. It was a survival instinct. Now L could only hope that the information he'd relayed was enough to allow Mello to contend with B. L loathed hoping.

The violent vibrating of Watari's cell phone drew L's attention away from his computer scree. Silently, he observed as Watari picked up the phone and listened intently to the voice on the other end. It didn't take L's superior deductive abilities to ascertain what that call was about, the weary expression on Watari's face was indication enough.

"They're here."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Oh how I love hearing what you're all thinking! It makes me happy and excited.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

Chapter 5

Light Yagami had barely been in the city of London, England for two hours, and already he was missing San Francisco. He missed the salt, the crisp morning fog, and the sound of cable cars slipping along brick paved streets. To him, London was trite. The streets were laid about randomly, without any thought to access or ease of transportation. On an atavistic level Light was admittedly filled with some amount of respect for the city's historical aspects. The architecture was beautiful, in fact it was astounding that the buildings had survived through the years of humanities wearing and tearing on them. But Light couldn't bring himself to take in the sights. As the cab he was in bounced uncomfortably through a pot hole, Light could only conclude that London paled in comparison with San Francisco.

But then again, he thought as he vacated the cab, that assessment could very well have more to do with what he was about to do than the city he was about to do it in.

Nodding to the Hotel doorman, he pulled his suitcase behind him and headed for the reception desk. He already knew he had a penthouse suite, though again, he had no idea how that bit of extravagance had been pulled through. Nor did he really want to know.

"Checking in sir?" the receptionist asked, a large fake smile plastered across her face with copious amounts of makeup.

Light fought the urge to cringe as the woman appraised him appreciatively and he nodded stiffly. "Yagami."

"Oh," she cooed in what he hoped wasn't supposed to be a seductive tone. "The _penthouse._ Well, if there's _anything_ you need Mr. Yagami, don't hesitate to ask." She winked and handed him the key.

Light smiled tightly, but said nothing, not wanting to risk spewing the bile that rose in his throat all over the marble lobby. Heading for the elevator, he glanced around the brilliantly lit vestibule silently. Plush chairs surrounded a large fire place situated across from the front desk. No flames were currently lit, but the subtle tinge of smoke that hung in the air informed him that the embers had only just gone out. The marble that coated the walls, ceiling, and floor was beige, and artfully coated with a large oriental rug that ran from the revolving glass doors to the elevators.

There was only the one way out of the hotel, Light noticed grimly. One had to enter and, most importantly, exit through the front door, unless one wanted to jump from a window.

He rode the elevator to the suite in silence, twenty four floors. With a sigh of relief the doors dinged open and admitted him into a quaint hallway with one set of wide double doors glaring at him. Exhausted, he tugged the luggage across the short five steps to the door, swiftly swiping the key card into the automated lock. The doors broke open and Light practically fell through the threshold, only to stop dead in his tracks.

"Holy _shit_ Sayu…" His eyes widened in shock as they swept across the room. Light beach wood extended across the floor in a thousand panels, stretching to windows that took up the entirety of the walls, framed with dark polished mantels. The center of the room dipped down three steps into a circular, carpeted pit, complete with caramel colored leather couches and a white coffee table. To the left of the pit was a spiral staircase Light assumed led to the bedroom.

Leaving his things by the door he moved to the kitchen and started flipping cabinets open at random, ignoring the basket of fruit and platter of cheese that sat invitingly on the black, marble island. He growled as he popped open cabinet after cabinet, snarling as he was met with porcelain plates, wine glasses, and even a bottle of scotch, but the coffee pot he searched for remained elusive. There were several bags of freshly ground coffee lining the counter space, but no pot. Slamming the last door shut he glanced around for a phone.

Light had stomped his way into the living space, quickly pacing around the dining area for anything remotely resembling a coffeepot before his pocket began vibrating. Pulling the thin cell phone from the folds of his trousers, he smiled as his sister's name flashed across the screen, irritation with his lack of caffeine forgotten. Flipping the phone open he set it to his ear and opened his mouth only to be accosted by a loud shout of excitement.

"Light!" His sister's voice shattered the exhaustion that had set about his brain, effectively waking him up. "You like the place?" He could practically see her bouncing as she asked the question.

"Sayu, it's-"

"Amazing I know!" She chirped before he could actually answer.

"Actually I was going to say _unessesary, _but if you want me to lie to you I can do that._"_

"Hey," she protested, though he could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't you dare mess with me Yagami Raito. Not at this moment in time."

He smirked at the threatening tone that had overtaken her but kept his comments to himself. "Right, so what am I doing tomorrow then?"

"Oh, you're having brunch with us!"

"_Brunch?_" he asked, struggling to keep the disbelieving contempt from his voice.

"Yes, it's what happy couples do apparently so you'll be coming with us, and some of his family will be there too," she explained quickly. "It's at Zaika on Kensington Road, be there at eight. Afterwards will be the rehearsal. Now I love you and I'm glad you're here, but I've gotta go! See you tomorrow Onii-Chan!"

"Wait, Sayu, eight in the morning?" he nearly shouted into the phone, only to be met with silence. She'd hung up on him.

Clenching the phone tightly it took a lot of restraint not to throw the offensive thing on the ground and stomp it into nothing but metal dust. There was no way he was getting up to go to brunch at eight in the morning. Wasn't the point of brunch to be in between the hours of breakfast and lunch. Just when the hell did eight am fall into that time slot?

Shaking his head irately, he reminded himself that this was only the beginning. From here things would only get worse, never mind that it was supposed to be a _happy _occasion. Apparently the Yagami family just didn't do happy all that well.

He fell backwards onto the couch, buttery leather welcoming his body into its folds. As he stared at the white ceiling, the warm glow of light glaring into his face, he recalled the name of the restaurant he'd be going to.

Zaika. It was an Indian restaurant.

With a groan he rolled over, pushing his face into the couch. Yes, this could only get worse.

3B

The clacking of keys was getting on Matt's nerves. It'd been one hour since he and Near had arrived at the hotel and he'd only been addressed by L once. The man hadn't said anything about Mello, or what he and Near would be doing now that they in fact were here. So Matt had settled himself across the plush loveseat, eyes closed behind orange tinted goggles. On the inside he was a tumult of aggression and disdain. Every strike of L's fingers on the keyboard was like a light punch in the gut, not a heart wrenching pain, but enough of an annoyance to make him grind his teeth together irately.

The man before him was not what he's been expecting whenever he drew a picture of The World's Greatest Detective in his head. In fact, the man he and Near had been introduced to looked more like the illegitimate child of the Witch everyone would rather leave for dead and The Grudge, and that was putting it lightly. To be honest, Matt didn't know why his mental construction of L was the way it was. He envisioned a man in a trench coat with a hat that would make Holden Caulfield proud, the stereotypical, iconic image of Sherlock Holmes. Hell, he'd half expected to be dragged down some hidden passageway on 211B Baker Street. Now, with the actual article faced before him, he was kicking himself for his own stupidity. As if Wammy's House was capable of turning out something so generic.

Near had seated himself on the floor in front of Matt, an array of brightly colored legos stacking themselves into skyscrapers around him. The clearing of somebody's throat startled Matt and he turned to view Watari who stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a tray in his hands. L and Near didn't even acknowledge the butler.

"Would you like anything to eat?" the founder of Wammy's House asked. Like L, the elder gentleman had not been what Matt was expecting. In fact he hadn't even made the connection that Watari and Quillish Wammy were the same person. No doubt Near and Mello had known, them being the ones to pay enough attention to L's casework and connect those dots. He knew Wammy would be old too. But he found it difficult to place the man acting as nothing more than a butler to the man who single handedly controlled the world's justice system. Matt didn't know about anyone else but if he were a multibillionaire inventor he'd be rather flamboyant about the whole thing, as in walking down the street in a fur coat and pimp hat, just because he could.

"No, I am fine Watari," Near replied emotionlessly, carefully mounting another lego atop his tower. It was beginning to take the shape of Big Ben.

"Matt?" Watari turned to look at Matt, an inviting smile on his face.

"Uh, can I have a sandwich?" he asked slowly.

"Of course," the man nodded. "And I shall fetch the usual for you L."

The hunched over detective nodded but didn't turn from his work and continued typing.

As Watari returned to the kitchen Matt felt another tinge of annoyance. Acting on it he stood and moved to stand directly behind L's plush, swivel chair. That got Near's attention. Lego's forgotten, the albino quietly observed the altercation that was about to take place.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?" Matt asked, trying to sound as polite and respectful as possible. But damn was it hard.

They typing stopped for a second, and then continued again. "We are doing something."

Matt stared hard at the back of L's head. "…then exactly _are_ we doing?"

"Waiting."

Matt nodded his head tersely. "So we're doing nothing?"

L finally stopped typing and swiveled around to stare up at Matt. "As much as I hate to say it, we have very little to work with at the moment. The note has no traces of evidence, and no one got a license plate number on the sports car. That makes finding it difficult."

"Why can't we draw Beyond out?" Matt asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Because L doesn't want the authorities involved," Near responded quietly, gently setting another lego atop his Big Ben monument.

"So we're just going to wait until Mello ends up in a ditch somewhere!" Matt protested incredulously.

L scowled internally at the boy's sharp words, though his face remained passively neutral. He recalled Roger mentioning something about Mello and Matt having a sort of codependence on each other in the files he'd sent over.

…_Mello and Matt are incredibly reliant on one and other. At first the instructors thought it was a good thing, considering Mello's volatile nature, to have him associate someone calm and collected. Not to mention when it comes to reigning Mello in, Matt is the only House resident who's been able to get through the child's thick skull and effectively shut him up. But their relationship has since progressed into something that may prove to be a danger to them both. I do not think they would be effectively able to operate without one and other, nor do I think a moment will come where they will ever want to. _

It concerned him. By the looks of Rogers report the two were dangerously dependant on each other. Though Matt's feelings for Mello would explain the boy's lack of effort in his classes. He managed to maintain third position in the race for the title of L, which was enough to keep Mello's interest in him alive, but low enough not to make an enemy out of the hot-blooded teenager as Near obviously had. As it stood, L could not see how the pink haired teen was calm and collected, he came across as more snippy and caustic. Though L hardly blamed the kid, he knew if he'd been sporting strawberry pink hair he'd been a little less than cooperative as well.

Narrowing his eyes in thought, L decided it was time to test the bond between the two boys.

"I fail to see why you are so concerned over Mello's wellbeing. You don't even know his real name, how can you possibly know anything of consequence about him?"

L barely had time to regret what he'd said as a fist connected with the side of his head, knocking him out of the chair and onto the floor. The detective supposed that he could be a little to rash in his manipulative tests at times.

Detangling his limbs he looked up at Matt with mild surprise. "Ouch."

The pink haired teen seethed, his breath coming in erratic gasps as he held back the urge to beat the crap out of the sickly thing before him. There was no way this man was the person Mello had idolized his entire life. No way was this callous bastard was even worth the thoughts Mello had devoted to him.

"You- you- I can't- you- you _suck_!" Matt finally stuttered out, the words not as insulting as he would have liked, but the basic point was there. "And you have no right to say I have no idea who Mello is. I know everything about his skinny, reckless ass, more than you could ever hope to understand. And don't you dare say otherwise because I know for a fact I wouldn't be here if that weren't the case!" Matt paused, glaring heatedly at L and waiting for his words to sink in. "And because I know Mello _so_ well," he continued, "I know that Beyond Birthday better be watching his own fucking ass because there is no way he'll get one up on Mells. Not a chance in even the seventh level of hell, which is the violent one. So no!"

L blinked, of course the boy would come to that conclusion. It was partially the reason he'd brought Matt to London, because of his friendship with Mello. L climbed calmly back into his chair, adopting the same crouch that had Matt thinking he was part frog. But apparently the bond between the two was strong enough, at least from this end it was strong enough to resort to violence. Ultimately, L figured the emotion would work in his favor as long as he channeled it correctly.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," the detective commented. "If you are confident that Mello can withstand B I'm sure he will."

Matt brought his fist back with the intention of hitting the man once more only to have a foot go flying into his stomach. With a gasp he fell backwards, skidding across the floor until his back connected with the couch.

"That is why we should devise a self defense course for the Wammy curriculum," L stated as Watari rolled a cart of food into the living room. "Too many people swiping at me with wild fists."

Watari chuckled as Matt found his way back onto the couch. If he hadn't expected L's appearance to be what it was, he had been expecting the man's strength even less. No doubt there would be a bruise the size of L's foot on his stomach by morning.

Watari began unloading pastries along the desk L was situated in. A two tier chocolate cake with an intricate design of swirls and spirals, a plate of chocolate chip cookies, strawberry scones, a strawberry cheesecake, and an assortment of brownies. L absentmindedly picked a brownie from the mass of teeth rotting deliciousness. At that point Matt didn't even have the strength or the patience to contemplate the food L was ingesting and just nodded in thanks as Watari placed a sandwich in front of him.

Washing his brownie down with a large bite of cheese cake, L turned to Matt. "I admit this is not the most desirable of situations to begin a case with. In fact, as this point I'd say Beyond had won the first round. But it won't be long until the man makes another move."

"You're gambling with someone's life here L," Matt said gravely.

"Yes, well, you'll find I do that quite a bit."

3B

Light was beginning to rethink not acquiring an International Driver's License. Riding in cabs across London was not the most comfortable method of transportation, it was a nauseating one. Or maybe it was just the conversation occurring between him and Naomi that had him on edge. He really needed to block the woman's number. That or Raye needed to knock her up, he was tired of having her mothering instinct subjected upon him. Weren't there any other rookie recruits she could cluck at?

"Light," she sighed once more, changing her point of attack. "You know the Bureau would have given you time off to attend your sister's wedding."

He blinked in mild surprise before mentally cursing. "How did you find out?"

"I _am _a federal investigator Raito," she said sternly. "It's my job to find out. And there is no way you would have just quit your job to attend a wedding. What's going on Light? This is stupid, especially with -"

"Naomi, I'm on vacation," he interrupted as the cab pulled into the front of the restaurant he was meeting Sayu at. "I'm here to relax and spend time with my sister. Leave me _alone_."

"I'll find out what's going on Light. I will." And she hung up.

'_That's just what I'm afraid of,' _he thought before pasting a nice, charismatic smile on his face and entered the newest level of curry smelling hell.

For an Indian restaurant, Zaika was not what he'd been expecting. The room was bathed in bright, warm light, hardwood floors reflecting the beams of light onto green-olive walls and a high, white ceiling. A sleek bar took up the corner of the restaurant, rows of wine and expensive liquors begging to be uncorked. The rest of the area was sprinkled with white, linen table clothes, high backed, deep red chairs, and porcelain dishware. Taking a tentative sniff he was pleased to note the lack of thick curry, instead inhaling the refreshing scent of light basil. Apparently Sayu did have some semblance of taste.

"LIIIGHHTTTT!" But quiet the girl was not.

He looked up and smiled as a petite, Asian woman waved wildly for him from the back of the restaurant. Sayu was waiting at the back of the restaurant, a small cluster of people surrounding her. Two were men, one of which had his hand firmly clasped in Sayu's own. Light's eyes were briefly drawn to the large rock sparkling up from his sister's finger, and he couldn't help but smile, even though he felt his heart pull at the sparkling sight. A slender woman stood off to the side of his sister's fiancé, dyed blond hair pulled back in a simple bun, dressed in a conservative, grey business suite. The two men were adorned in a similar fashion. It was enough to make his sister stand out vividly, her pink sundress a stark contrast from the muted tones of business attire.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came Onii-Chan!" Sayu moved forward and enveloped her brother in a hug, squeezing around his waist tightly. Light returned the gesture enthusiastically.

"You've been engaged for almost half a decade Sayu," he said, smiling down at her and just taking her in. Out of everyone in his family, Sayu was the only one who he'd never fully understood, and for that he cherished her. "That's half a decade of me being constantly being harassed by Matsuda Touta, of course I came Sayu."

His sister made a face at the police officer's name. "Way to ruin a happy reunion Light."

A polite clearing of the throat interrupted the two and Sayu turned to face her boyfriend inquisitively. "We'll be waiting inside Sayu," he said with a smile, nodding to Light as he led the other two strangers into the banquet room.

She nodded sweetly and waited for them to disappear from view before she rounded on Light. "You think I should have stayed with Matsuda," she accused blithely.

"I think it's your decision," Light replied stiffly, knowing they needed to get this out of the way before he was properly introduced to his future brother in-law.

"Oh, so you're just against the fact that I'm marrying _him_."

"Honestly, yes, yes I am," he said, meeting her glare with a sharp look of his own. "Not to mention the fact that once Dad finds out you're married to The Notorious One, _and_ that I was here to give you away, I'll end up with a bullet in my head."

"Mom would stop him," she said with a roll of her eyes despite knowing just as well as he did that their father shooting his own son was a distinct possibility.

"Yeah, and then she'll make me wish he actually _had_ put a bullet through my head."

"Raito," the syllables of his name slipped through her lips. "You're the one who arranged all this, the travel, the villas and apartments, and the eventual fact that we'd all end up here."

"Yeah, I know." He deflated at the exhausted tone of her voice. "And why I even enable you to go through this circus is a mystery to me."

She brightened at the quip, knowing she'd won the argument. "I think it's because you love me!"

"No, I don't think that's it."

She pouted but laughed, winding her arms around his arm. Shaking his head at the girl's antics, he nodded towards the banquet room, "Come on, show me who's already here."

She led him into the banquet room, which contained a single, long table that seated about fourteen people. Food was set out across the white table cloth, steaming and fresh. Laughter filled the room, as minor conversations took place between the members of the bridal party. The three individuals Sayu had been chatting with before his arrival were situated at the head of the table, the blonde nursing and tall glass of champagne. She was the only person in the room who looked displease with being there.

"Raito, this is my fiancé Hachirou Junko, Hachi-kun, this is my brother Raito," Sayu introduced. Light smiled tightly as he gripped the hand of the man who was about to wed his baby sister, fighting the urge to shoot him in the face. What older brother didn't go to meet his sister's fiancé without at least a 9mm securely tucked away?

Sayu seemed to sense Light's distaste for the man as she quickly averted his attention to the unhappy blonde. "This is his sister, Rei. And this is his brother Kotone."

"Hello, it's a pleasure to finally meet you all," Light said politely, extending his hand to Rei. She sneered at him and took a sip of her Champaign.

"Rei," Hachirou hissed, a look of mild rage falling across his eyes. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. The man had to be a master of his emotions considering his line of work.

"What?" she snapped. "They're _civilians_," she stressed the word 'civilian' as if it were a piece of dung someone had thrust beneath her nose. Light raised an eyebrow at the petulant woman, but her comments didn't end there. "Not to mention it's a joke for you to even be marrying this girl at all, let alone for you to see her walk down an aisle in _white_."

Light had never wanted to hit a girl so much before. Sadly though, his sister beat him to it, which admittedly was a bit more socially acceptable, not to mention sent a wave of pride through him. The harsh _slap_ echoed through the dining room loudly, effectively ceasing all conversation and drawing the attention of the rest of the bridal party. Sayu's eyes burned with a mix of emotions, none of them at all positive ones. Her fists were balled tighter that rubber band balls, ready to spring back up and deliver a beautiful new style of eye shadow to her future sister in law's left eye, one that would be lasting about a week.

"I happen to_ like_ wearing white bitch!" Sayu snapped snidely, skipping forward and taking her fiancé's hand in apparent mocking. Light was surprised she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the vile woman.

Rei's eyes widened as she regarded Sayu in stunned astonishment. She turned to her brother as if expecting him to do something in her favor, but he just wrapped his arm protectively around Sayu's waste, causing Light to smirk. In utter disbelief, Rei whipped around and stalked from the room, her heels clicking angrily across the wood floor. The moment the door shut behind her applause broke out from the rest of the bridal party.

"And you made her a bridesmaid why?" Light glanced at Hachirou's other sibling. The man looked like a carbon copy of his brother, except for his hair which was a dark black, a slight difference from Hachirou's own brown locks.

"I thought it'd be fun to make her wait on me," Sayu replied flippantly. "Now, let's eat!"

3B

He watched the petulant woman stalk from the restaurant and out onto the street. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but he felt no amount of sympathy for the little cunt. He'd never had much respect for people who dyed their hair bleach blonde anyway. It was always better when natural, he thought, thinking back to the boy he'd left bound and gagged at his place.

The woman moved towards the parking garage situated a few blocks away. Peeling back into the alley way he moved through the back alley of the streets, headed in the same direction. The layout of the area was pretty well mapped out in his mind. It was eight in the morning too, which meant that few people would be out and about. Things were always harder when he had to worry about an audience. More amusing yes, but there was always the danger of turning one harmless murder into a mass homicide, which never reflected well on his sanity.

He followed her into the concrete structure lithely, keeping silent and out of line of her peripheral vision. She stopped at her car and leaned against the side door, the sound of her deep, calming breaths moving like chainsaws on his ears. He really didn't like her. The three inch stilettos would be much better suited to being rammed through her chest, just below her heart. He'd let her bleed, the blood running in a slow river across the parking lot's asphalt, blending in with the oil stains and dirt. And she'd be panting, crying even harder, her tears diluting the blood with salt.

As it was, she didn't make any noise at all as he grabbed her from behind. She was too skinny, he noted dully, as the knife plunged its way into the small of her back. The searing pain sent her into shock, the bones in her body quacking against the muscle spasms until she fell unconscious, head lolling back against his shoulder. She was weak, no fun at all. The perfect victim was one that fought, screamed, gave reaction as their body was mutilated. The greatest victim was the one that remained silent through the torture, accepting their fate with a mocking grin at their assailant. But those victim types remained as nothing more than mythical figures in the lighter portions of Beyond's imagination. When he'd seen her come from the restaurant he'd been hoping for a new experiment, but she was nothing more than a letdown. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd have more opportunities later.

The blood that had gushed from the stab wound now coated his hand like a vinyl glove. Dropping her body to the ground he examined the knife critically. Even her blood was dull in color. Kneeling down he methodically removed a stiletto from the girl's foot, smiling as he saw that the sole of the shoe was as red as the blood now collecting beneath her car. Drool ran from the corner of her mouth, swirling into the crimson liquid that saturated her clothing. Whit a snort of disdain Beyond knelt beside the body, a sinuous chill running up his spine as his sneakers made a soft splash in the blood. He could feel the liquid seeping through the canvas of his shoes, warmly ghosting against his toes.

Flipping the girl's body over, he rammed the spike of the heel into the girl's back just hard enough to leave a faint impression, yet with not so much force that he'd stab her again. A large portion of him wished that the pain would wake her up, but he knew it was unlikely given the liters of red that now decorated the parking space. But he continued with his patter, ramming the heel into her back, grinning all the while.

In the end it was one of the easiest kills he'd made.

3B

Beyond sauntered back into the ballroom only to halt in face of the murderous glare he was met with. Taking in the sight of the irritated blonde B burst out laughing.

"Okay, fine, go ahead and laugh you fucking asswhipe," Mello snipped.

Beyond graced him with a large smile before walking further into the room, pulling his bloodied shit over his head and depositing it on the floor as he went. He had to have a stash of clothing somewhere, Mello knew, he just wasn't sure where. It left his thoughts of escape looking rather bleak, the ballroom being a beautiful platform that dropped off into god knew where. If he made it out of the gilded hall he'd be nothing more than a blind mouse in a maze. Algernon without any flowers.

"I am not an asswipe," B stated. "I am an asshole. There's quite a difference in job description there."

With a growl Mello rocked back and forth in the chair Beyond had left him in, pulling against the chains and tape that were wound about his chest, legs, and arms. He was way past humiliation at this point. Never mind that he'd been treated as nothing more than a crippled plaything at the hands of a childish monster, but said monster had made quick work of him. As soon as B had dragged the chair through the double doors, rolls of tape falling down his arms like bangles, Mello had run, only to be tackled with an elbow straight to the back of his neck. He'd balked out and woke up bound to a rocking chair. It had been an uncomfortable few hours to say the least.

"So you won't torture me, but you will chain me to a chair with duct tape, electrical wire, and rusted iron links?" Mello snapped humorlessly as the serial killer made no move to untie the teenager.

Beyond paused in his trek across the room to stare at his hostage uncertainly. "Is that _not _the point of a _kidnapping_?"

Mello decided it had been a stupid question. "So who did you kill? A pregnant woman, little boy and his puppy, or did you forego the personal touch and just blow up a retirement home?" he asked sweetly.

Beyond cocked his head to the side and smiled that demented grin of his that Mello was becoming way to familiar with. Moving a red checker piece, now stained with B's bloody thumb print, to stand in front of the chocolate monster, B replied with a simple nod of accomplishment. "I killed _you_."

3B

The lunch was progressing nicely, Sayu thought with a smile as a slice of Coconut Burfi was placed before her by a waiter. The mix of almond and coconut taunted her taste buds sweetly. Softly spearing a corner of the dessert with her fork she let out a sigh of contentment as the exotic flavors met her tongue, heightened by the low murmur of conversation that echoed around her and the fact that her fiancé and brother had yet to kill each other. The last part was only natural she supposed, given that the two worked on opposite sides of the law. But still, it was nice to not see blood staining the table cloth of her rehearsal brunch.

How was that for untraditional? A rehearsal brunch, not a dinner, but a tacky mixture of breakfast and dinner. After a five year long engagement consisting of running from the authorities, and more importantly, her father, she was finally able to settle down and get what she wanted. As much as it pained her to admit it, she owed her brother big time. Not that that would ever be admitted out loud, but it warranted the purchase of a yearlong supply of Starbuck's finest.

The soft vibrations from her dress pocket distracted her from the heated debate take place between her brother and fiancé. Pulling out the phone she flipped it open and pressed the speaker to her ear.

"Hey Kyo, you know you didn't have to go after her," Sayu said, fondly noting her best friend's good nature. "None of us would really mind if Rei stayed -"

"Sayu, she's dead."

A/N: Longest chapter yet! I feel pretty proud of myself.

Okay, about the Indian food. I mean no offense, and I'm sorry if I seem to be bashing on it, but I take pleasure in making Light suffer at the hand of food. I wanted him to be continuously subjected to a type of food he hated, and Indian Cuisine is what came out of the hat. It isn't personal.

As for murdering people with a pair of Christian Louboutin's, that I have no qualms over.

As always, thanks for reading. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you to everyone who as read, reviewed, and alerted this fic! I really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note

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Chapter 6

Matt glared at his reflection in the mirror, L and Near appraising him expressionlessly from the double bed. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he declared, fumbling furiously with the black uniform he was being forced to wear. "You don't _actually_ do this do you?"

"Wear ridiculous outfits?" L responded dully, eyes moving over Matt's body critically. "No I don't, but we're shorthanded at the moment and this is the most I can allow to have done. I don't trust a regular Bobby to investigate and deal directly with the authorities, so you'll be going instead."

Matt resisted the urge to snort at the term 'Bobby.' It made him sound like a dog on a dash board and, examining himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but think he looked just as ridiculous. "But do I seriously have to wear this?" the teen grouched, turning to face his mentor.

L looked at him with wide, blank eyes. "I figured since your hair was pink you wouldn't object to looking ridiculous."

Oh, so the man did have a sense of humor, Matt noted as he quelled the need to punch L once more. "If this because of my hair, than why am I wearing a wig?" His hand moved to adjust the blond hairpiece Watari had provided him with earlier.

"Bobbies don't have pink hair," Near said calmly, though Matt could see a glint of amusement burning in the younger's eyes. _Sadistic little thing_, Matt thought, glaring at the boy.

"Fine," Matt said, turning sharply from the two to examine his reflection for the umpteenth time. No one was going to think him a cop, not when he looked barely older than fifteen, though maybe if he walked up with a cigarette they'd think he was older. Which he _was_, the nicotine craving currently polluting his blood stream claimed stubbornly. The sluggish voice of tar and noxious gas had been growling for attention all morning, displeased with the thirty eight hour lack of habit. Tensely, he wiggled his hands in a vain attempt of dispelling the nerves and thinly veiled aggression.

Choosing to ignore Near's empty, challenging gaze Matt stomped from the room. No matter what was said about his hair, and no matter his own personal opinion on the subject, he was keeping the color. He'd spent a good hour that morning staring at his reflection in the glass frame hanging in his bathroom. His hands gripping so hard into the porcelain of the sink he was surprised the faucet hadn't shattered. The fuchsia coloring was a stark reminder of why he was here, not that he actually needed the pink locks to inform him that his best friend was being tortured by an insane serial killer. But Matt was a man of symbolism, or he was now at least. It was Mello's fault his hair was pink, it was Mello's fault he was in London, and it was Mello's fault he was about to spend his afternoon impersonating a cop at an Indian restaurant. If anything, the mockery and scathing comments he'd been getting from L, and oddly Near, filled a minor portion of his need for the blonde's company.

Matt's hair would be pink until he got Mello back. That needed to be soon, however, given that he'd already spotted centimeters of vibrant, red, hair beginning to sprout out of his head. His natural hair color was taunting him, reminding him that he probably didn't have much time.

L and Near followed him out of the bedroom and into the parlor where Watari had a slew of equipment laid out about a polished, wooden table. Three flat screen monitors were suspended before the windows on the other side of the table, masking the London city scape with their blank flickering.

L slouched around the table and picked up an ear piece between his thumb and forefinger. "Near and I will remain here while Watari escorts you to the restaurant. There you will be left to gather details of what happened and acquire crime scene photographs, statements, and anything else you think will be of assistance to our cause. Near and I will be watching you through the camera here, I took the liberty of getting it in a color you were partial to." L held up a small pink ribbon in between his fingers. Embedded in the ribbon was a diminutive camera lens Matt could barely make out.

"So I'm supporting the fight against cancer as well, how very hypocritical of myself," Matt commented blithely, wishing he could pull a pack of Blacks from his pocket.

Watari placed him with a disapproving look. "Cancer sticks are bad for your health young man. And I will not tolerate the stench."

Matt rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore the older man's parental concerns. He was an orphan, and Watari wasn't doing him any favors by acting the concerned grandfather. He barely knew the man as it was.

Taking the pink ribbon from L he secured it to the police uniform. "I still don't understand why you need me to go and get all this stuff for you," he spoke blithely, placing the ear piece around his left ear. "Don't you have the authority to gain this kind of information directly from the police?"

"I do actually, yes," L replied. A smug look crossed the detective's features before he continued on. "But I want this to be as under wraps as possible. I cannot risk it leaking to Beyond that I'm pursuing him. That's what he wants. I refuse to bow to the whims of a criminal."

L barely noticed Matt's raised eyebrows at this declaration, but he did observe that the boy's dark red eyebrows clashed with the wig that had been provided. It mattered little, L concluded, deciding that the boy looked the farthest thing from a cop as possible. That would either work in his favor or against it. He was lying by saying that he didn't want B to know he was moving after him. In fact, he wanted B to get the message that L was coming loudly and obnoxiously. L was choosing to stray from the long arm of the law because, frankly, the agencies he employed tended to get in the way. They were opinionated and usually against L's methods. L found that when it became apparent that his own moral compass pointed in a completely different direction than the officers the officers became a hindrance. When working with Beyond, that was the last thing he needed.

"I could hack the police database," Matt suggested, struggling to flatten his collar. "It'd be a hell of a lot more simple than this ridiculous charade you have me putting on."

"I concur with Matt," Near finally spoke out as he organized bullets into a triangle pattern across the table, looking incredibly bored with the conversation surrounding him. "He's a terrible actor. His portrayal of the Fairy Godmother in Linda's production of Cinderella was abysmal."

"Hey!" Matt protested. The boy could feel the blood pooling just beneath his cheeks, turning him the violent shade of embarrassment. "Just because I am unable to prance around in wings and sing 'bobbody bloddedly doo' does not mean I can't act like a police man. Though the latter action would be a lot better if I didn't look so ridiculous," Matt added wryly.

"It's 'bibbidy bobbedy boo' actually. And you've established your thoughts on this course of action quite well Matt, so enough griping," L ordered nonchalantly, crawling into one of the chairs surrounding the table and unwrapping a lollipop as he folded his body into its customary crouch. "Watari, can you give us the camera feed?"

The elder nodded in compliance and moved around one of the large monitors. The far left screen flickered to life with the image of the parlor, just as Matt saw it, though the line of sight was a few inches lower than his own.

"Everything looks good, thank you Watari. You and Matt may be on your way now," L responded, eyes widening in slight anticipation. Things were finally moving forward.

"Wait," Near called, running back to the bedroom before Matt and Watari could leave. The boy returned moments later with something in his hands. "Here, this completes your dress up," he said, placing a black hat with a checkerboard brim atop Matt's itching head.

"Oh thanks," Matt snapped, eyeing the hat through the fringe of synthetic hair irritating his scalp. "More of a reason to be jested."

3B

"_Darling_," Beyond Birthday's voice rang out around the golden pillars that were sparingly littered throughout the ballroom he'd been renting. "I've been _thinking _obsessively about you for _days_," the man sang, swinging his body around in circles, arms outstretched and flailing through the wind as he yelled into the speaker phone. _"I_ would really _love_ it if you came and stayed_ here_ so I could stare at you."

Mello placed a red queen of diamonds beneath a black king of spades. Playing solitaire without a computer was as bizarre as the man dancing across the floor before him. As loathe as he was to admit it, he was beginning to tolerate Beyond Birthday, be it because he still had a mental idealization of Beyond in his head that he could identify with, or because he was developing a disturbing case of Stockholm Syndrome. Either way, the idea of growing to like B perturbed him greatly.

"_Okay_ Darling, so _maybe_ I was following you." Mello looked up from his cards to watch B prance around gleefully, completely out of sync with the music blaring across the hall. "But it was out of the _purist_ of intentions, I _swear_! Fine _fine_, if you want I'll _leave_ the rest to _you_." The murderer hung up and pocketed his cell phone.

"_Darling_ not coming?" Mello drawled, moving a stack of red and black cards atop another.

Paying no regard to the comment, B continued to twirl like a dradel across the dance floor. The rough, rock music vibrating the marble flooring, the murderer's movements still not matching with the droning screams and harsh guitar chords. He moved more like a ballerina than Mello would have thought possible, but the grace was oddly suited to the man, giving him an even more foreboding and ethereal appearance than before. It made Beyond appear more dangerous that when he was just sitting on the couch leering at you.

It was no mystery what Beyond had recently done. He'd killed someone, as that was what serial killers did, and apparently this person had similar features to Mello's own. Beyond was drawing L further out of whatever metaphorical cave the detective was operating out of. And Mello was a little afraid of the degree to which he understood the man's actions.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Mello asked abruptly, looking up from his neatly placed cards. "Is it just to draw L out? What happens when he finds me?"

"You _know_ Little Dear, I hadn't really _thought_ that far ahead."

"Liar," Mello snapped.

B chuckled and fell to his knees, the momentum causing him to slide across the floor like a hockey puck until he came to a stop right before Mello. "You'll find I'm _not _the one lying in this game _Little _Dear."

Mello glanced up into bold, red irises. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly _what_ it sounds."

Beyond gazed levelly at the teenager, hoping the boy would yield to his anticipations and not look away. For some reason people always looked away from him when he stared at them, and B found it rather rude. It was one thing B was envious of his Darling for, the ability to hold other's attention with just a twinkle of the eye. B smirked as three minutes passed by and Mello's eyes had yet to waver from his own. _This is why I'm _the _one with Little Dear and _Darling _is refusing to come home. _No one was better suited to handling Mello than he was. Mello was as good as his, more than a toy, less than an obsession, the boy was _his_. And that would hurt Wammy.

"Out of _every_ child at Wammy's House you are the _only_ one L told about me. Did you ever _wonder_ why?"

Mello opened his mouth, lips moving to form words that would defend his lifelong goal, but Beyond cut him off.

"It _isn't_ because he thinks your worthy of being his _successor _Little Dear. Is that what you _thought_?" Beyond asked cruelly. "Did you think L _cared _about you?" B inhaled the rage that briefly crossed the boy's face like a drug, bathing in the noxious poison that had filled Mello's eyes. But the boy remained silent, much to B's delight. "I'm not a _liar _Little Dear, and I won't lie to _you_ about this. He told you _about_ me because you are _like_ me, a kindred _spirit_ if you will."

No reservoir of patience existed in Mello. This, the blonde was well aware of, and it was the reason Roger had enrolled him in multiple anger management classes throughout his adolescent years. But there was something different about speaking to Beyond Birthday. Beyond had not lied to him, but the way he used the truth, it was shameless. Twisting words and enunciating in just the right respects to gain exactly what he wanted. Distress. Beyond Birthday distressed him, because the killer was right.

"That's not the truth of the matter though, is it?" Mello said, pulling all of his anger into the depths of his core, waiting for the proper moment to release it upon the wraith kneeling before him. He refused to give the man the satisfaction of his precision.

B titled his head to the side, silently urging Mello to continue.

"Well, did L specifically tell you that?" Mello asked. B's smirk transformed into a humoring smile. "He didn't," Mello continued, his own words calming him somewhat. "Which means everything you've said is mere speculation."

Beyond nodded in avowal, letting the teenager say what he wanted. At this point he only wanted to get the boy talking. He already knew Mello was relaxing around him, growing accustomed to the situation. Now the boy just need to have the reality he'd existed in since being taken into Wammy's House ripped from him, shattered. B would break that life and take the shards of it, using the pointed edges to draw cute, little truths across Mello's pale, ivory flesh. The boy was so close to where he needed to be.

"And he didn't just tell me about you," Mello added quickly, and then wished that he'd remained silent.

The moment the words touched the air he knew they were a mistake, and he didn't need to see Beyond's victorious smile to tell him that. It was too much information, too soon, too desperate. The words rang from his mouth with the disgusting tinge of defiance and arrogance. It was exactly what Beyond wanted from him.

"Of _course _he didn't, that _would_ be too _suspicious_." Courteously, B let the 'duh' remain a mental thought, as it would gain him no points with the boy. But that didn't mean he had to be entirely accommodating. "What stories did he tell you, hm? Did he talk about beating those other foolish detectives who challenged him, or maybe you discussed the devastating information leak that occurred in Ikebukuro?"

Beyond was fishing for a certain reaction; Mello knew enough about manipulation techniques to see that. And he was sure he was close to delivering exactly what the killer wanted. It was difficult to believe that B truly was being honest, but if he was, than why couldn't Mello be as well?

"He told me about you, and two of his other exploits," Mello admitted. "What makes you think he was using those to mask your story?"

Beyond smiled kindly, and Mello found himself unconsciously recoiling from the man as he did.

"_Ah_, my Little _Dear_, it's because you are_ so_ much like me." B said it as if it were something to be proud of. Grinding his teeth on the words, Mello fought the urge to protest, he was trying to be honest here after all. "L see's _that _in you, and it _concerns_ him. More to _the _fact, it concerns him _because_ Watari is the _one_ who pointed it out to _him_."

"I am only partially similar to you," Mello responded evenly, dropping his gaze from Beyond's and back to his game of Solitare.

"But _it's_ enough." B moved around Mello, crawling on his hands and the balls of his feet, moving like a demented crab. Mello stiffened as the murdered moved directly behind him. Gently, yet with a fine amount of pressure, Beyond placed his forehead on the back of Mello's kneck, his warm breath running down the back of Mello's black shirt. "You feel it _too_, don't you?"

The helplessness. The loneliness. The unfairness of the situation. Mello shook his head of the thoughts. He was weak, if he was going to fall prey to Beyond's ministrations this easily. If he did, he might as well kill himself now because such would make him unworthy of The Title. Mello was everything he wanted to be, everything he needed to be. He was L's successor, handpicked by one of the world's greatest inventors and confided in by the most powerful individual in global law enforcement. Nothing would change that. L's motives in telling him about Beyond Birthday didn't matter, it was all inconsequential because ultimately, Mello would be the one to decide if he wanted to take after Beyond or not. It didn't matter what he felt when he was at Wammy's, or how he regarded it. He would not falter.

"You're being rather clear in your objectives here Uzhas," the blonde muttered grimly.

B smiled at the name. "As I said _before_, I will not lie to _you_. You're far too important for _that_."

3B

Matt's shoes hit the pavement with a soft thud. He shut the car door with a click and ran across the street where the Indian Restaurant he was to be looking into was situated. L had requested that Matt gain a decent look at every individual who had known the victim, given that they had no idea who the victim was. As far as Matt knew, L wasn't even one hundred percent sure that the woman who had been killed was murdered by Beyond Birthday. After glancing around the restaurant space Matt was to observe the actual crime scene. He was looking forward to that phase of his reconnaissance, this, not so much.

Arranging his features into what he hoped would pass as a 'cop face,' Matt walked into the restaurant. It seemed as if the police had had the place shut down for the day, though no crime scene tape was blocking the entrance, just a 'closed for maintenance' sign. Maybe that was just a video game thing, but Matt thought the yellow tape would have added a bit more color to the place. The restaurant was tasteful yet_ boring_.

Angling the camera button on his jacket slightly upwards, Matt presented L and Near with a panoramic shot of the entire establishment.

"Wait!" A sudden shout pierced Matt's eardrum and the boy winced. Back at the hotel L gaped as a face appeared in the background of the shot, an unforeseen image that momentarily crippled his deductive abilities. L did not take surprises all too well

"Matt!" L demanded harshly. "Approach the back of the restaurant."

As Matt, and the camera, moved forward a handsome young face came into better focus and it had L leaning over the table until he was practically lying atop the surface. His mind whirled. Unless he was mistaken, which he never was, that was Light Yagami with his head bent low, speaking conspiringly with another Japanese man. _What is the boy doing here?_ Rapidly, L pulled on ever fact regarding the Yagami prodigy that he had filed away as negligible information not too long ago. The boy's family unit consisted of four individuals, his father who worked in the NPA, his mother, a common house wife, and his younger sister, who no doubt appeared to be latched to the arm of the man Yagami was speaking with, L observed. He was currently employed under Naomi Misora at the San Francisco FBI headquarters. For the few years he'd been working with the FBI he had distinguished himself as a successful profiler. And most importantly, the boy had been the only person Beyond Birthday had spoken to during his imprisonment. For Light Yagami to suddenly appear, an acquaintance and potential witness to B's first killing, it was no coincidence. Though, it could prove to be a useful.

"Okay L," Matt's voice broke through L's thoughts. "What am I doing now?" The teenager glanced warily around the restaurant, searching out the people that weren't police.

"Approach the young man with light brown hair, I want to know why he's here," L ordered levelly.

"Just him in particular?" Matt asked suspiciously.

L was silent for a moment, running through every little scrap of information he knew about Light Yagami once more. "He may be an asset to apprehending Beyond."

"I thought you didn't want civilians involved," Matt whispered, careful to move his lips as little as possible as he came level with a large crowd of mingling police and Japanese. For people who were witness to an apparent murder, they all seemed remarkably calm, Matt thought. It put both him and L slightly on edge.

"Light Yagami is no civilian," L said roughly, black eyes never wavering from the Light's face on the screen.

"He's armed," Matt commented, maneuvering through the chaos of police men, crime scene investigators, and the civilians who'd been with the girl.

"So is the entirety of the bridal party," L said succinctly. "Interesting family."

The need for an entire family to carry a weapon was crucial to note. Given that the victim was apparently a relation of some sort to the individuals. None of the police officers in attendance were carrying a firearm, in fact it was well known that Great Britain had some of the strictest firearm legislation in the world. Never mind that Japan's rate of gun possession was almost nil. As far as L could recall the most an individual could own in Japan was a shot gun. So how did these people come to casually posses such equipment?

"Okay L," Matt whispered as he observed Light Yagami from less than a yard away. "I'm approaching them, what do you want me to do?"

"Repeat everything I say," the detective responded through the feed.

Matt mentally nodded and confronted the Japanese suspect. "Excuse me?" he spoke loudly.

Light Yagami glanced up and Matt found himself startled as he was met head on with an intensity of amber he had not been expecting. The man was furious, yet nothing in his body language said that, only the fierce swirl of his eyes, and perhaps the hard line of his mouth. It could have just been the stress of dealing with the authorities that had Light Yagami so aggravated, Matt reminded himself, but his spidey senses told him otherwise. They were whispering for him to appease the auburn haired man or suffer the consequences.

"You are Light Yagami, yes?" L's voice came into his head, spurring Matt to parrot the words.

"You're Light Yagami? Right?"

The woman clinging to the man on Yagami's left rolled her eyes in irritation. "Yes, for the hundredth time, my brother is Light Yagami, I am Sayu Yagami, and this is my rehearsal brunch!" the female practically shouted.

_Bride has been scorned_, Matt noted. _Do not agitate_. L's voice came back through his ear piece, and Matt spoke accordingly. "I apologize if we seem like broken records, but please Miss. Yagami, I only have some questions for your brother."

"Yes," Light cut in before his sister could further berate Matt. "What can I do for you? We've already told your superior and two other officers the events of today."

"Well it's been brought to our attention that you work for the American FBI."

3B

Light had been expecting it to come at some point, police agencies being what they were, there was no way the British Police were going to let his employment status go unnoticed. He just hadn't expected it to be brought up so soon.

"Yes," Light responded to the police officer slowly, "I fail to see what that has to do with anything though. I'm on vacation."

Or at least he _was_. Light regarded the officer coolly. He was young, very young. In fact Light would have been surprised if the boy claimed to be anything but a teenager. He was fidgety as well, lacking the professional air the other officers darting in and out of the restaurant carried. Furthermore, no one was even sparing the kid a glance.

"How long are you planning to stay here Mr. Yagami?" the officer inquired.

"Until my sister's wedding is over, which was set for the day after tomorrow." Light spoke steadily, raking his eyes across the so call officer's frame.

The crooked, checkered brimmed hat called to the obsessive compulsive side of Light's soul, wanting to be straightened. _Though the kid's hair could do with a decent brushing as well_, Light thought to himself. It was stiff, set in crumpled wisps that had the officer repeatedly blinking and twitching, fighting to get the hair from his eyes. The hair color also didn't seem to go naturally with the boy's skin tone…

3B

"Stop fidgeting," Near ordered dully, leaning in front of L to speak through the microphone before moving back constructing a Gundam out of L's marshmallows.

L glanced briefly at the boy before going back to observing Light Yagami. "Will the wedding no longer be taking place at that time?"

Yagami glanced up as Matt relayed the question, fury thinly veiled in his eyes. "No, it won't be. Now if you would please excuse us."

"You're losing him," Near commented softly. "Talk to his sister."

"Yes," L agreed. "Ask the girl if the victim had any enemies."

L listened as Matt did so, grimacing as his successor's voice shifted in annoyance. He'd defiantly need to have a word with Matt about public appearances.

"Rei was hated by everyone," Sayu Yagami snapped. "Which we told you people already. Now why are we being kept here!"

"They're not on edge over the murder," Near said, his fingers attaching a Striker Pack onto his edible model.

L spun his chair away from the monitor screen to face the albino. "What makes you say that?"

Near appraised the conversation taking place between Matt and the Yagami family before answering. "Look at the two males, the way they're standing. It's protective, as if they're ready to shield the girl from a threat. One would assume this threat to be the murder of their acquaintance, but the normal human expression of such would be to stand directly in front of her. Instead these men are off to the side, poised, as if they're glaring at an opponent. The only person staged here as an opponent would be the police. Notice that every other member of the family is in a similar state of opposition. The murderer isn't who they're afraid of, it's the police."

Smirking, L nibbled on his thumb, staring at the white haired boy appreciatively. _He'd do well_, L thought, popping a marshmallow into his mouth. _Clearly Near possesses natural profiling abilities, but how well can he control a situation I wonder?_

L stood swiftly from his chair and walked towards the kitchen, intent on finding the rest of his cheesecake. Without hesitation Near pulled the microphone closer to him while still focused on his Gundam. "You should confront them about the Guns they're carrying. As a police officer you have the ability of garner answers from them through the threat of incarceration."

Matt floundered for a moment as the voice in his ear abruptly changed from L's to Near's. Was he supposed to take direction from Near now? What the hell was L doing then? And what was Near thinking? The kid seriously wanted him to threaten the family where everyone was packing heat? Police or not, that was one thing Matt was not going to be doing anytime soon.

"I'm afraid I _can't_ let you leave police supervision," Matt said, ignoring Near's suggestions. The freak was so detached at times, and with things like this it would cost him. Although Matt wouldn't claim to be all that socially skilled, he was at least he was better than _Near_.

L came back into the dining room, a platter of cheesecake and a pot of tea balanced in his arms. He couldn't help but be slightly disappointed in his top successor. The boy's idea had been flawed and trite, but direct tactics usually were. As for his persistence, it was non existence. The child sat at the table, building some robot thing out of marshmallows L didn't actually remember saying the boy could have. It didn't seem as if Near had even_ tried_ to get Matt to follow his instructions. _Spineless, cotton ball kid, the detective grouched internally._

L climbed into his chair, watching in vague amusement as the Yagami girl began to yell at Matt. Hopefully he'd be able to shut her up soon.

3B

"I didn't say you couldn't leave the restaurant," Matt snapped, losing his patience with the petite Japanese woman. If only attractiveness could negate high octave voices. "Just that you couldn't leave without police supervision."

Light glanced up at the kid in suspicion. "So what, we just let you people follow us to our hotels, like annoying shadows?"

"Well, you could have us do that, though I highly doubt we'd be interested in whatever takes place in your guy's lives." Not likely, where there are guns there be secrets, Matt thought to himself. "Or you could come to the crime scene with me."

"Matt, what the hell do you think you're doing?" L's voice came suddenly sharply through his ear piece. But Matt ignored it, focusing instead on the violent words his declaration was met with.

"No."

"Yes."

Sayu glanced at her brother in surprise. "Onii-Chan, may I remind you that you are on vacation."

Light cast an annoyed glance at his younger sister, though Matt had a feeling it wasn't actually her he was annoyed with. "Someone is killing off your bridal party Sayu. Are we really going to leave it up to _them_," at this Light nodded towards Matt insultingly, "to figure out who?"

A wordless message was cast over the air between the alleged fiancé and bride, before acquiescence was met to Light's request. It was simply more to the jigsaw of just who the hell these people were. A heat packing, cop fearing, bridal party wanted to investigate the murder of someone everyone hated, Matt listed appreciatively. If only the family would adopt him.

L was still hissing objections into his ear, but Matt paid the detective no mind. If L wanted to control the involvement of these people he could come down to the crime scene himself. All Matt wanted at the moment was to make these people happy so he didn't end up getting shot. Already the groom's hand was twitching for the lead strapped to his chest. Plus, Light Yagami apparently worked for the FBI, and clearly L knew this, which meant the young man was capable. L only noticed those who'd proven themselves in the field. If Matt could get L to take Yagami onto the team then they would have more hands, which meant Matt would no longer have to play dress up. It was a win-win situation as far as he was concerned.

"As a Fedral Agent, as well as an acquaintance of the victim, you may notice something about this murder that we didn't," Matt continued. "If you're open to accompanying me, please do. We would like all the information you may provide."

Light shot his sister a stern glance as she made another move to protest. He'd already asked if he could examine the body, and the officers had shot him down. Yet here was a kid, saying he could get him past the crime scene tape. The red flags in his head had now been joined by a bunch of blaring sirens and flashing, red lights.

"I'd be happy to take a look," Light said evenly. "Sayu, if you and your fiancé want, you can stay behind with the others."

"No, I'll go with you Yagami-Kun," the fiancé said quickly. "She _was_ my sister anyway."

Matt had to maintain his sense of surprise. The fiancé was the brother to the victim? Where were the tears, the unbridled anger? The man was calmer than a Tibetan monk. What kind of brother kept that kind of cool in face of their sister's murder?

Sayu glared at her brother and future husband, and Matt pitied the girl as she realized she wasn't going to win this battle. "Fine, go!"

3B

The walk to the parking garage was short, and covered in a silence Matt wasn't entirely comfortable being a part of. He was too accustomed to meandering around with loud, obnoxious kids who were too smart for their own good, smart being a synonym for annoying. But the two men flanking his current footsteps were calm, collected, and ridiculously confident. Matt may have been the one in the police getup, but to any onlooker, the boy had no doubt the Japanese men would each be taken as the ones in control of the situation.

The police had already cut off all the entrances to the parking garage and were subsequently holding every car parked within the concrete cage hostage. This left a crowd less than pleased citizens milling about the sidewalk, gripping at lesser officers who'd been abandoned by their superiors to patrol the block. Using the mild confusion and fuss as cover Matt slid amongst the crowd and up the garage stairs. It irked him to see that, while other officers looked at him quizzically, Light Yagami and the other Japanese man were presented with nods of approval.

Light also noticed this small fact, but unlike Matt, it amused him more than anything. "What have you people gathered thus far?"

"Oh, well…"

"Just who the hell are these guys?" a strict voice broke in before the flustered blush could effectively walk all across Matt's face. The teenager hadn't thought that far ahead, or formulated a response to Light's unanticipated question.

A lanky cop was shouting as he saw Matt, Light, and Hachirou approaching the scene. "Who are you to let these people in?" the man demanded, spiting in Matt's face.

"They're FBI specialists," Matt replied quickly, the lies formulating faster on his tongue than his mind could process them. Blame his aversion to authority for it. "The woman has been identified as an American Citizen, on branch with the Japanese embassy." Matt prayed to God there was such a thing in the world, and that the victim's family hadn't given that much information to the authorities yet. Going by the family's wariness around law enforcement, he was hazarding that they hadn't.

"Right… and what do they want with my crime scene?"

"Just to take a look," Light said, stepping up behind Matt and clasping his hand on the boy's shoulder pleasantly. "We're here to assist you after all."

Sparing the man a winning smile, Light stepping up towards the body.

Light hadn't been to many crime scenes during his time with the FBI, and the ones he did accompany Naomi to were virtually clean by the time he got to them. He'd had a desk job, not field work. He was accustomed to the sight of a dead body however, having gone through and analyzed multiple pictures of victims, and the occasional poor soul that got hit by a stray bullet. So he had never really had the privilege of looking at an undisturbed mangled body. The sight was a lot cleaner than he'd expected it to be.

Immediately, Light's mind began taking in and working out the meanings of the details. The blood was still red upon the asphalt, but had begun to dissipate some, leaving a darkened smear across areas, marking the perimeter of the struggle. There was no spatter anywhere, showing that either the kill or incapacitation had been quick, with a direct force that went clean through the body. Light guessed, based on the gaping hole in Rei's back, that she'd been debilitated by the pain of the stabbing. The blood seemed to come solely from the subclavian artery by the position of the wound. It was the only visible point of major trauma Light could see. That was until he stepped in closer.

"She's bruised, all across her back," Hacirou commented.

Light kneeled down beside the body, careful that only the soles of his shoes were going to be stained with blood. "It's a pattern, letters or roman numerals, I can't say. It's difficult to make out."

Matt came to stand behind Light, angling his uniform, and the pink ribbon attached to it, so L could record an adequate picture of the victim.

One of the forensic specialists glanced up at the three of them. "We found this in her hand." Passing a crumpled note over, Matt hastily grabbed the paper before the other two men could.

Carefully, he unfolded the sheet to find it was a piece of blue lined notebook paper. Eyes widening, Matt took in the gothic 'M' that occupied the far right corner of the page. Beneath the letter was a set of details.

_After removing the carpet from the room, he plays a vinyl record before placing a crown atop his head and hanging himself, he then gets stabbed in the back. _

"I need her name Matt," L snapped impatiently into Matt's ear. "You've spent all this time chatting, but I have no name other that Light and Sayu Yagami's."

Matt grimaced but complied, knowing L's irritation had nothing to do with Matt himself but with the crumpled paper the boy held. The 'M' proved this was Beyond's work, and the fact did more to disturb the both of them then make them feel better about their progress. "Who was she exactly?" Matt inquired, pushing thoughts of Mello and Beyond Birthday out of his mind.

"My sister, Rei," the Japanese man that wasn't Light Yagami said unhelpfully. Apparently their family had no last name. "May I see that?" he asked, gesturing for the note.

"And no one really got along with her?" Matt pressed for information, passing the paper to Rei's brother.

Light stood swiftly and nodded his head at the other man, who had passed the note back to the forensic specialist. "She was a bitch from what I understood. Anyway, as we've said, you guys have all this information. At the moment, there's nothing I can conclude from the body. But do I have your word that you'll keep us informed?" Light looked imploringly at the young police agent, morphing his visage into one of slight distress and determination.

"Yeah," Matt stammered, momentarily taken aback by the vulnerable expression. "Sure."

"Good," Light nodded with a smile,

"Yes, very good Matt." L's voice came through the ear piece, though the detective didn't soun d very pleased at all. "I think you can come back now, you've clearly been dismissed."

Choosing not to rise to the insult Matt merely nodded his head and turned swiftly from the two Asian men. "I'll report back to my superiors," he called over his shoulder. "Can find your way back to the restaurant?" Not waiting for a reply Matt briskly walked for the stairs at the south corner of the garage, Watari would be waiting for him three blocks from there. He couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and throw the stupid outfit he was wearing in the trash.

3B

"So what do you think?" Hacirou turned to observe Light's expression as they both watched the young officer practically run from the scene. "He legit?"

Light glanced at the man who was to marry his sister, a sly smirk on his face. "There's only one way to find out."

The two of them nodded at each other before sprinting after the boy and down the concrete steps. A flurry of activity met them at the bottom of the staircase; four cops were busily trying to keep a mass of civilians from running into the parking garage to retrieve their cars. Each person was shouting to be heard while random passersby and news crews snapped pictures of the commotion.

"There," Light snapped, eyes locking onto the boy who was now about to cross the street. "Faint, quick."

Without protest Hachirou fell backwards and went limp into Lights arms.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" Light shouted, cradling his sister's fiancé against his chest, but his eyes never left the police officer who was now running down the street, away from the parking garage.

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A/N:

Translation: Uzhas – Horror

I should probably inform you that Matt's hair color comes from my fic "Pink," just in case you were curious. It's not necessary reading for this story, but feel free to check it out if you so wish. It's on my profile.

Also, updates may be coming slower from here on out. I'm back in classes, which provides me with a lot of business that isn't exactly appreciated.

Thanks for reading, please review.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Yep, updates coming slowly. And I've a new cosplay project that's ready to eat me whole. But here's a chapter, rushed through editing to get it up today. I guess I just enjoy posting on Wednesdays, don't ask why.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

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Chapter Seven

_Light sat at the small, rectangular table drumming his fingers absent mindedly against the cool metal surface. The constant beat elicited by his finger pads was a small comfort against the gaze of the man sitting across the table from him. Bored, he glanced around the small room they occupied with a healthy amount of paranoia. He chalked it up to the number of hard surfaces his head could get bashed up against, but he didn't let his fear show through too much. Light only let enough of the emotion seep through his eyes and into the atmosphere to let Beyond Birthday know he respected him. Despite the discomfort, Light was legitimately glad to be sitting before the murderer today. It had taken months of paperwork and an endless amount of obstinacy to get the opportunity to interview Beyond Birthday. No other criminal would have served Light's purposes. _

_Light's friends thought he was more than a little obsessed with the brilliant killer. But frankly, Beyond Birthday seemed to be the only criminal in the history of the justice system that interested Light. To say Beyond was the reason Light had chosen to become a criminal profiler was an understatement. Light had done it all to get to Beyond, to talk to the man, dissect the cogs in his brain, to find out how they worked and, ultimately, to find out how to break them._

_But twenty minutes had passed and neither he nor Beyond had spoken. A tape recorder sat between the two of them, recording the silence and steady drumming of Light's fingers. Beyond sat motionless, blank, red eyes peering over his knees, one thumb lodged permanently between his chapped, pink lips. Opposite him Light withheld another sigh, legs crossed, back resting stiffly against a metal folding chair. _

_Upon entering the small room Beyond hadn't known exactly what to think. He'd assumed he was being taken to another doctor's appointment. The main reason for this thought had been the use of what B liked to call the "Hug me Chair." It was a wheel chair with a straight jacket built into it, used as a method of transporting the dangerous ones around the establishment. It also meant that upon arriving at his destination he'd be let out, the usual hand cuffs replaced with a pair invisible to the naked eye. The Hug me Chair meant that he'd have to behave himself. At least that's what Beyond had thought until the pretty teenager had entered the room. After that the only phrase that had come to Beyond's mind was 'virgin sacrifice.' _

_Eventually though, B snapped. _

_He moved his hand through the air swiftly to clamp down tightly on the teen's. To give the kid credit, he didn't flinch. _

"_Would you desist?"_

_Light raised an eyebrow but calmly slipped his hand from beneath Beyond's brittle grasp. The killer's voice was rough from disuse, hoarse and slightly better than a whisper. _

_With a sneer the murderer stood from his chair and moved for the door the teenager had come through. Banging his fist against the doorknob B tested the lock and found it to be secured tightly in place. Swiveling back around Beyond settled himself back into the chair opposite Light, a look of pure delight on his face. _

"_They really left you alone in here with me unrestrained?" _

"_I requested that you not be confined," Light said tonelessly. The look Beyond was gracing him with in no way made him regret that decision, in fact, it excited him._

"_Did you really?" Beyond chortled. "Confident little thing aren't you?"_

_Ignoring the quip Light decided that it was the appropriate time to introduce himself. "My name is Light Yagami."_

"_They don't let reporters talk to me," B interrupted quickly. _

_Light smiled internally at the information. "They don't or you don't?" _

_Beyond blinked. The kid was smart, maybe there was a reason for Light Yagami's confidence after all, not that it would do the boy much good. But it didn't mean they couldn't play together for a little while. Beyond could already tell Light would be an interesting individual. B didn't like wasting his words on people who didn't understand them, or those who just wanted to judge them, hence, his disinclination to speak with reporters, or anyone else for that matter. Light Yagami, B hoped, would be a different case entirely, one that was highly worth the effort._

_What did worry Beyond was that no one had told him he'd be getting interviewed today. Usually the crock psychologist that came in once a month would inform patients if they were going to be seeing anyone other than a doctor. The lack of information on the subject of Light Yagami could only mean that the psychologist wanted him to talk with the boy, to open up, and for some reason she felt this teenager was the best chance of that happening. Beyond felt this warranted some broken bones for the woman, at the most he'd try to gauge his fingers into her throat and tear out her vocal chords. For the moment however, he decided he would speak with the pretty young man._

"_I find that people are unable to keep up with my words," B stated finally._

_Light nodded in understanding, the warning in the statement clear. "Well, as I was saying, my name is Light Yagami and I'm a Criminal Psychology student. I'll be coming in to interview you every day for the next two weeks."_

"_Have you any notion what that could so to your psyche?" B muttered, his thumb back in his mouth. _

_Light smirked. "As someone training to become a criminal profiler, if I am unable to deal with speaking to you then I have no right to even contemplate the profession."_

"_So mentally you're stable enough," B assessed. "But what if I were to hurt you?"_

"_Honestly?" Light asked. "I'd probably enjoy it. It's what I'm here for. If you were to attack me there is no doubt in my mind that you would incapacitate me. As such, it is my request that if you do feel the need to harm me that you keep me conscious so I may observe your actions, emotions, and any other little detail that will reveal to me who exactly you are at heart."_

_Light straightened in the chair a bit, trying to release some of the tension that was building within him. Appearing tense would reveal a weakness to Beyond, as well as his inexperience in face of dealing with a murderer. Though Light suspected Beyond was already aware of that. _

"_So you could either spend time asking me questions or I could torture you?" B asked innocently, his eyes shining in delight at the possibility Light had just extended to him. _

"_Well I'm not saying I'd prefer the latter, this isn't a suicide mission. But given your notorious history it is a distinct risk. As for the questions, this won't be an interview per se, more of a conversation. For example, we could discuss your school life, childhood, friends, abusers, anything and perhaps everything if you'll permit it."_

"_So we're going to spend two weeks talking about how my father raped me as a child?" B leaned back in his chair, his head lolling to the side, nose almost touching his collar bone in over exaggerated dissatisfaction. "I'm afraid that's a conversation that isn't going to last very long Mr. Light Yagami."_

_Light scowled mentally at the red eyed man mocking him. "Is that an admission? You were a rape victim?"_

_B glanced up at Light mollified. "You weren't supposed to take that literally. It was quip, a joke, a devise meant to infuriate you yet also reveal something to you about my internal character."_

"_Well it certaintly is doing one of the two," Light groused before collecting more patients. "Beyond, this isn't a joke. I'm really trying to talk to you and gain insight into who you _are_."_

_B pursed his lips over his thumb nail. "Is that so?"_

_Light nodded, looking into the other's red eyes calmly. _

"_Well then tell my Mr. Light Yagami, what do you make of me right _now_?" Beyond asked, finally letting his full amusement at the situation go unbridled. _

"_That's just it," Light replied, leaning forward in slight excitement, as well as some well placed irritation. "You don't fit any of the prescribed stereotypes for a killer. You're an entity all your own I'm afraid. Or at the very least that's what you portray. And if that is the case, than you are a rather talented actor I must say." _

"_So you're saying that you can't draw any conclusions about me at all?" B asked. "Well that's just no fun at all. In fact, it's kind of boring." B pouted._

"_Well I believe we'll be getting into more enlightening conversations, and therefore I'll be able to better draw on your character traits, as we progress, but that's only if you stop wasting my time," Light replied a bit more strictly than he would have liked. Going on the defensive with Beyond could prove dangerous; at worse it could spur B to clam up just to spite him. "You were the one who asked anyway, and I will answer any question you ask of me."_

"_Oh don't say that, it makes you sound submissive."_

"_On the contrary, if anything would be submissive it would be for me to let you crawl back into that little cell of yours, which you seem to want to do."_

_B was surprised the boy had noticed that, and he let it show._

"_Well, as has already been stated, I don't like talking to people. They try to manipulate me, and I'm afraid I don't have the skills to combat such interrogations," Beyond admitted blandly. _

"_Maybe you're just out of practice." Light smiled at the murderer. _

_It was a challenge, and one Light fully expected to emerge from victorious. _

_Beyond smiled for the first time since he'd been thrown into the hell hole masquerading itself as a correctional facility. Beyond could already picture every way in which Mr. Light Yagami's spirit could be shattered, broken, twisted and mangled by B's own hands until the boy could barely even recognize himself. And once he was done, he had every intention of taking Light Yagami and putting him in a jam jar, preserving him forever as his own little science project. The kid was just so pretty. _

"_Alright than Mr. Light Yagami, what shall I be calling you for the next two weeks?" B asked cheerfully._

_Light smiled in return, though the gesture was somewhat tighter than intended. He could just see the cogs turning behind B's ruby irises, and Light's inability to read Beyond's thoughts worried him. "You can call me Light if you wish."_

_B nodded. "In that case call me Beyond." _

"_So would you like to tell me about your childhood?" Light asked. "Surprisingly little has been recorded about your life before LABB, and even then the information is vague."_

_Beyond sat up in interest. "You have access to my files?"_

"_Yes, I requested them, or it actually."_

"_And they gave them to you?" Beyond demanded, perplexed. "They also let you talk to me without being shackled to a chair like some wonton sex toy. Just who the hell do you _know_?"_

_Ignoring the vulgarity of the statement, Light laughed at the murderer's disbelief. It was the first emotion Beyond had shown that wasn't fabricated and overstated. "I have friends in high places."_

"_Of course you do, a pretty little thing like you. I bet people just bow to your every whim, don't they?"_

"_Well you are," Light responded snidely. "Allowing me to talk with you like this, so informally."_

"_Ah, but we're not discussing anything of importance yet," Beyond countered proudly. "I can steer you in any direction I so desire Light. It's your interest in me that does that I suppose. Your desire to gain insight into my life makes you dependant on me, you'll do what I want you to."_

_Beyond smirked over his knees at Light, daring the younger man to counter his argument. It amused him to see the conflicting emotions run across Light's face before the boy was able to purge all emotion from his face. His new toy was a prideful one. But B didn't think the pride was undeserving. Light Yagami was intelligent, and incredibly attractive. B couldn't quite get over that last fact. _

_Light folded his hands together and rested his chin on them. "It's not like I couldn't find another criminal to talk to, learn from for my dissertation. But you are my primary choice, and my ultimate goal is to prove myself in the field."_

"_Oh, so I'm just your way to an easy A," B concluded. _

"_I'd hardly call you easy Beyond. But weren't you like that in school? Didn't you want to do well? To prove yourself?" _

"_I'm actually not permitted to discuss my schooling, confidentiality agreements being what they are." B answered frankly. "But I concede."_

_Light nodded absently and gestured for Beyond to continue._

"_My schooling was highly enjoyable," B paused in thought for a moment. "… for a time it was at least. And then it became, trite. Things became uninteresting and I began to crave something more. That's when I committed my first murder."_

_Light's reaction to that declaration fascinated Beyond. The young man hadn't reacted as any normal individual, even a criminal psychologist, would have reacted. There was a dangerous glint in Light's eyes, clearly polluted with an underling fury. Profilers were supposed to remain emotionless, objective and unbiased. But the boy sitting before Beyond was angry for some reason. Beyond didn't understand it, but he didn't have to in order to exploit it._

"_She didn't deserve it," Beyond continued, carefully eyeing the storm brewing within Light. "I was mad and merely taking my anger out on her."_

"_How did you kill her?" Light asked quietly. His fist's were balled under the desk, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd expected to hear about Beyond's exhibitions in great detail, and he'd trained himself for it appropriately. Or so he'd thought._

_Beyond smiled reminiscently, as if the memory of his first kill was a fond one. Which, Light considered, it probably was for the murderer. _

"_I burned her," Beyond said simply. "I threw some oil on her, made her smell like a stale French Fry. Then I lit a match and set her ablaze. She was smart enough to stop, drop, and roll, you know, that whole standard fire procedure. And she was very vocal about it, screaming in agony as her skin blistered and peeled, scorching the blood that became exposed to the open flame." Absently Beyond's hand brushed against the side of his face, fingers running over the burn scars framing his eyes and lips. "Burning is painful."_

_Light nodded as he mentally assessed Beyond's reaction. There was a touch of somberness in B's voice, not one of regret, but of rejection. "Did anyone know about this? That you had killed this girl?"_

"_No, I got away with it." _

_Silence fell across the room. Beyond stared dully at his toes, wiggling them slowly as if reassuring himself that he could still feel them. Meanwhile, Light was lost in thought over the admission. His eyes raked over Beyond's huddled form, the cloud of depression hanging over the man taunting him. Beyond had wanted recognition for his actions. That was clear. And in a just society, he would have got it, and he would have been given the Death Penalty for it as well, which may have been what B had been after. Light sensed a recklessness in Beyond Birthday, the type that came with someone who was tired with his state of existence. But B was prideful as well, much like Light himself was, and he wasn't one to do the shameful deed himself. Not without meaning. _

_The silence was ended by Beyond's abrupt changing of the topic. "Do you have a boyfriend?"_

_Light blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. "I fail to see how that is any of your business," Light responded crisply._

"_Well, you're very pretty," Beyond said cheerily, eyes moving up and down Light's body fondly. "I have to know if there's a possibility of a jealous boyfriend coming to beat me up if I play with you too much."_

_Light thought the declaration over in his head. It was perturbing to have a serial killer claim he was attractive, let alone one like Beyond, who seemed determined to bend away from every characteristic of a killer. If Beyond had been speaking with him in any other social setting Light would have thought the man was flirting with him. Here, Light was sure the man was taunting him, making use of the superb acting skills Light suspected the murderer possessed. _

"_What if I had a girlfriend? You wouldn't fear her?" Light asked._

_B rocked backwards on the balls of his feet, eyes rolling to examine the ceiling thoughtfully. "No, I don't see you allowing a woman, or anyone for that matter, to walk all over you. You'd enjoy being in control. Not to mention your watch says you're overcompensating for something."_

_Eyebrows raised, Light brought his wrist up to reveal more of his watch. "How is this overcompensating?"_

"_It's big, and rather shiny. Why would you choose to buy a watch like that? Doesn't it chafe? You know I can imagine something much better than that thing chafing your wrists," B said blithely. _

"_How do you know I bought it for myself?" Light asked._

"_Oh, so it was a gift. From whom then I wonder?" B nibbled on his pinky nail for a minute before reaching over the table to grasp Light's arm and get a better look at the wrist watch. "I'd say your father," B concluded. "You're Japanese, which suggests you maintain the traditional Asian father and son respect dynamic. Plus, though big, it's practical, easy to read with nothing more than a glance. And judging by all the scratch marks marring the band, but not the crystal plate, it's able to withstand daily wear. I hazard if a woman had gotten you a watch for a gift the thing would be more flashy, gold instead of this heavy duty metal. It also would have been impossible to read given that the female guards here seem to favor watches that aren't marked with numbers."_

"_Your logic is brilliant, if not slightly flawed," Light said, gently removing his arm from Beyond's grip._

_Beyond sent him a puzzled expression. "How is it flawed?"_

"_You've chosen to assume that I don't have a boyfriend."_

_B pouted at Light, the expression making the man look like a demented puffer fish. "Don't tease me," B snapped._

_Light chuckled at the killer's antics. "I'm not teasing you."_

"_Yes you are," B admonished. "You're trying to get me to consider the notion that you do have a boyfriend when I know you don't." _

_Light raised his eyebrows, but nodded his head for B to continue with his line of thought. _

"_Your nail's aren't manicured," B replied simply, a small grin occupying his features, interrupted by the thumb that was lodged in his mouth. "Gay men get manicures, or so they tell me here. No, you're asexual, like me."_

"_You're not attracted to anyone?" Light inquired, surprised. "I never would have guessed that with the way you've been hitting on me." _

"_No, I'm attracted to nothing but a challenge. So what now Mr. Light Yagami?" B asked, his voice sickeningly sweet. "What can your mind tell you about me now that we've engaged in such delightful conversation?"_

_Light answered without pause. "You were shaped by the people who raised you. I'd say you, Mr. Beyond Birthday, are the product of failed manipulation. This entire conversation you have attempted to scare me, make me submit to you. Yet at the same time you gave just as much as I received. It suggests you do have morals after all, they're just a little skewed." _

"_I, however, worry my perception of you is incomplete," Light continued. "As well as a little scattered, lacking in crucial areas, but we've only just been introduced. I believe, as we further get to know each other, the pieces to your puzzle will begin to fall into place." _

_B smiled a large, toothy grin that sent a slight chill down Light's back. _

"_Whatever you say _Sweetie Jam_."_

3B

Sayu came bursting into the room. Her footsteps pounding their way across the hardwood floor and vibrating up into the bedroom Light was currently situated in. A knowing smile draped across his lips as he moved from the bed to stand at the top of the spiral staircase that led into the living room of his hotel suite.

"My wedding has been ruined!" Sayu growled at her older brother, fists clenched so tightly Light was surprised to see that blood wasn't dribbling onto the floor.

Staring down at the distraught girl in amusement, Light leaned against the wrought iron railing. "Considering your intended's line of work, did you really think this debacle would be a smooth ride?"

Sayu gaped at her brother in anger before marching over to the couch and throwing herself onto it, face first so only a muffled cream could be heard. Taking it as a sign to descend, Light sighed and walked down the stairs. Carefully he sat himself on the love seat adjacent to the couch she had plopped onto.

"Go ahead," Light said. "Just let me have it. Knowing you you'll find some way to blame this all on me," he grouched.

"Because it is your fault!" She snapped, jumping onto her knees. "We were supposed to be Romeo and Juliet! A LOVE STORY GOD DAMNIT!" she shouted, pounding her fist into the leather upholstery. "This is entirely your fault Raito! Romeo and Juliet didn't have to go into hiding for five years! They weren't forced to move from country to country, unable to share their nuptials! And I'm pretty sure Juliet's maid of honor wasn't murdered two days before the wedding!" She shrieked.

"That's because they killed themselves." Light responded tersely. "There was no wedding for someone to be murdered at."

It wasn't the most delicate way of dealing with his sister, but at this point in time Light reasoned the best way to deal with his younger sister was to be unforgiving and blunt. The girl was beyond distraught, and judging by the water stains that dotted across her cheeks, she'd long ago stopped crying. Now there was nothing in her but an unadulterated anger that was looking for a target to be fired upon. Light had best let her take it out on him and then make her feel guilty about it at a later date.

"THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE HAPPIEST WEEK OF MY LIFE!" She was standing now, eyes glaring poisonous spears right into Light's own eyeballs. He figured that her looking down on him made her feel more in control of the situation than she really was. But Light couldn't fault her for that.

"And you will have that week eventually," Light said calmly, unfazed by his sister's outburst. "It just won't be this week. In fact, you may want to postpone things for a couple of months or so."

Sayu fell back onto the couch, the look falling across her visage radiating nothing but displeasure. "Why the hell do you suggest I do that?"

Light raised his eyebrows as if it were obvious. "Sayu, your maid of honor was _murdered_. What will people think if you continue with this?"

"People?" Sayu scoffed. "What people? The bridal party is the only guests Hachi and I have! What is it with you and sabotaging my happiness!"

"I'm not sabotaging your happiness," Light denied. "I'm sabotaging your wedding, there is a difference."

Sayu crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, knowing her pest of an older brother was joking. "As the bride I see none. Now what is this about?" she demanded.

Standing from the couch Light made his way to the kitchen for the pot of coffee room service had prepared for him. "I think the person who killed Rei will strike again," he said heavily, eyeing his sister in his peripherals for her reaction. There was none.

"Why do you stay that?"

Light mulled over the events of the day in his mind, thoughtfully

'_After removing the carpet from the room, he plays a vinyl record before placing a crown atop his head and hanging himself, M then gets stabbed in the back.' _The words Hachirou had relayed to him were interesting to say the least. At most it was just over dramatic. The description had nothing to do with the crime scene he and Hachirou had observed. It was a taunt, Light knew, something left behind and giving a hint towards the next victim. A lot of serial killers had been known to do such things. But there was one in particular sticking out in his mind like a painful boil.

"Wait," Sayu regarded her brother through narrowed eyes. "I know that look. Light, you can't be saying…"

The expression he shot her was answer enough.

"That's absurd!" She snapped at him. "Idiotic, stupid! Dare I even consult a thesaurus to find a word pretentious enough to get my point through your arrogant skull!" She moved from the couch and into the kitchen, her beseeching posture betraying the anger she was using as a façade.

"Sayu, it's already been decided," Light said, handing her a cup of coffee. The black substance always helped him to be reasonable; perhaps it would do the same with her. And if it didn't, well he didn't much care.

"By who?" she stipulated. "You? Hachi? Did either of you consider getting my opinion on this matter?" She pushed the proffered cup away irately, as if swatting an offensive fly. "Of course you didn't! Light, it's not as if this doesn't affect me either."

Light's lips thinned as her regarded his sister through the steam of caffeine. "I know it does Sayu, and I'm sorry this happened. But I want you to be safe, I want to make a better world, a world you and Hachirou can raise a family in peacefully." Reaching across the marble island that separated him from his little sister he grasped her hand gently. "I only want to make this right."

Sayu looked up at her brother, delicately chewing on her lip. "Fine, go catch a killer. Make the bastard pay, I have no qualms over that. It's justice. But let me in on it? At least when it involves my wedding preparations?"

Light nodded, but cast a worried glance at her, opening his mouth to comment on her last request.

"No," she interrupted. "I'm not postponing my wedding. It'll happen in two weeks I've decided, after Rei's body has been shipped back to Japan. And don't think your little emotional manipulation works on me Raito, I'm not some stupid dunce."

"I never said you were," Light stated fondly, knowing this was the most he could get from Sayu.

"Humph," she pouted, before wrenching her hand from beneath her brother's and heading for the door. "I want to know if my wedding's in danger Light, keep me updated!"

"I will," he called after her, a wry smile on his lips. In the back of his mind, the wheels were turning. He needed to make a call.

3B

Sprawled across his hotel bed once more, Light quickly dialed a set of numbers he'd had memorized since his first day at the FBI.

Three rings into the call a male voice came over the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Raye," Light said amicably. "It's Light, is Naomi home?"

"For once she is," Raye Penbar chuckled over the line. "Here."

"Naomi!" Light heard Raye's muffled shout through the phone. "Light's on the phone for you!"

There was a subdued grumbling in the background, as well as what sounded like a shout of indignation before Naomi came on the line.

"Oh, so now you're calling me. You better have some answers young man or I swear I will fly to England and wrench them out of that devious little mind of yours myself!"

"It's Beyond." It had never been Light's intention to talk to Naomi about Beyond Birthday, or the man's presence in London. But given the woman's current mood, he'd say what he could to make her shut up. He didn't have the energy to spin half truths and mental circles for his mentor that evening.

After a moment of silence, Naomi responded. "Yeah, I got the memo, and BBC's already reporting the homicide of your sister's maid of honor."

"Shit," Light swore. "That means my dad probably knows."

Naomi scoffed. "I doubt it, your father is a man who enjoys denial Light. He's probably ignoring the facts at the moment. What I want to know is what you plan to do."

Light rolled over, letting his head fall off the edge of the bed so the world turned itself upside down. "I'm going to fix things."

A disgruntled sigh came from the other end of the phone, alerting Light to the lecture he was about to receive.

"Of course you are," Naomi snipped. "Does it ever occur to you that life is better lived when you _don't_ mess with it?"

"I'm not messing with anything!" Light protested. "If anything, Beyond's the one that is, not -"

"Light, this is something I don't want you involved in," Naomi rushed before Light could go on further. "This is something you don't need to be a part of."

"What are you saying Naomi.? That this has nothing to do with me?" Light snapped, his irritation simmering.

Naomi knew who he was, which meant she knew exactly what he wasn't as well. And Light wasn't someone to leave an individual like Beyond Birthday alone, especially when said individual was running around and killing people he knew. He needed to poke and prod at it, to examine things from every angle. To see Beyond in person and shackled to a chair was one thing, entertaining as hell, as well as a most educating experience. But Light had a feeling that, not only observing Beyond in action, but perusing him, playing the game with him as opposed to just being it's judge, would capitulate more. Light felt the experience would end up yielding be something else entirely than what was expected. That was just Beyonds MO.

Naomi growled over the phone. "It doesn't have anything to do with you Light! Stay out of it!"

Light glanced at the phone. It wasn't uncommon for Naomi and him to quarrel, and occasionally even shout at each other. Such was the way they functioned. The woman was the overbearing mother he never had. Not to say that he hadn't had a mother, but that was beside the point. He was familiar with Naomi protesting and criticizing his every action. But the woman was never this direct about it, most times she'd manipulate and twist his arm until he conceded and went behind her back. Then she'd assist from afar, living vicariously through him until the job was done.

She knew there was nothing she could do to stop him when he wanted to do something, so why was she fighting so blatantly? There had to be more behind the woman's erratic and demanding behaviorthan her aversion to Beyond Birthday.

"Light, do you even understand how ridiculous this crusade is? You don't even know that it's really him," the female agent tried reasoning. The statement was so pleading that Light could practically see her grasping at straws.

"Cut the bullshit, we both know it is," Light sneered. "What I want to know is how you know."

"I don't!"

"Yes you do," Light "Otherwise you wouldn't be so against me looking into it. If you weren't sure he was here you'd be curious, practically goading me to investigate. That letter wasn't enough to guarantee that he was in London Naomi. How do you know he's here?"

Silence over the line.

"I hope you know what you're about to get yourself into." Her tone was grave and it came over the line louder and more clearly than anything else she'd said that night.

"No going back? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"If only it was." She hung up.

3B

L stared listlessly at the large monitor screen. Three hours had passed since he'd abandoned his chair and crawled onto the table, leaning closer to the monitor so as to inspect the scrawled letters the screen displayed. Gently nibbling on his thumb, L thought over the words Beyond had left behind.

'_After removing the carpet from the room, he plays a vinyl record before placing a crown atop his head and hanging himself, M then gets stabbed in the back.' _

It was a clue to Beyond's next victim. That much was obvious. In fact, it was more a blatant statement than a clue. What wasn't so apparent was who now had a death sentence hanging over their head and where the murder would take place.

L hadn't been expecting something so similar to B's last game this time around. He's been waiting for a different competition, something more intricate and bold. This was trite. L had a list longer than a mile long of serial killer's who'd adopted this technique. It was like a kindergartener's game of tag of murderers. Bait the police then run and hide. L knew it was egotistical of him to say so, but he liked to imagine himself above such antics. Thus, he knew Beyond was as well, which led him to the conclusion that there was something more to the game being played.

Unfortunately, that didn't necessarily mean that there was more to the note. It was written on standard notebook paper. The same light blue lines, college ruled spaces, and one inch margins were used the world over. The ink was black, from a ball point pen judging by the fluidity and occasional break in pen strokes. There was nothing unusual about either of those things.

Content wise, three things were apparent: That Beyond had killed the girl Rei and that he had Mello. These could be deduced by the large gothic 'M' placed in the text of the note. The last thing L concluded was that Beyond was making a mockery of killing Mello, again based on the 'M' as well as the fact that B's first victim had been blonde and the same height as Mello.

In terms of what the note itself said, there were multiple ways to interpret its meaning. The first was to take things literally, as if the note declared exactly how Beyond was going to murder his next victim. That was the simplest way of thinking about the contents. Given the simplicity of the note that was the method L was going with. He was just at a loss of exactly _how_ to go about it. There wasn't enough information, and it was pissing L off.

Irately, the detective moved his eyes from the center monitor that held the offending note to the one on the left. Hand fumbling for the remote, L began flipping through the hotel security cameras, praying to the god he knew didn't exist for inspiration. He found it standing in the main lobby, flirting with the hotel's receptionist. Black eyes widened as they took in the form of the one individual who had puzzled him the most over the past twenty four hours. Beyond Birthday forgotten, L zoomed the camera in on the handsome features illuminating the screen. As if sensing the unseen camera's movement, the figure looked up and met L's gaze head on.

"Matt," L called over his shoulder, eyes never wavering from the face on the TV screen. "Why is Light Yagami standing in the hotel lobby?"

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A/N: Awesome reviews are awesome. Don't you want to be awesome? XD

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying the fic!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: …I got eaten by a dinosaur.

Actually, I really wanted to include more in this chapter, and it _was _set to be the longest yet. But I ended up cutting things in halfjust posting what I had here for the sake of updating.

I am, however, quite thrilled with what you guys are picking up. It makes me happy to know I'm communicating everything as it's supposed to be understood.

As always, thanks to all who've reviewed!

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Chapter Eight

"Are you saying it's my fault that he's here?" Matt demanded, glaring mutinously down at the tuffs of white hair he was facing.

Near didn't even bother to glance behind at the irate fuchsia haired teen and continued to snap K-Nex together into the pattern of a Ferris wheel.

"It must be. You're the only one who interacted with him. He must have followed you back to the car after you left the crime scene and then pursued you and Watari back here."

L rubbed his temples gingerly as Matt once more began shouting at Near. The two had been at it for six minutes already, and although Watari kept reassuring him it wasn't that long for the teenagers to have been fighting, he was unaccustomed to such blatant displays of obnoxiousness. And they were giving him a headache. He'd already instructed Watari to go and collect Light Yagami from the lobby and was now awaiting the elder's return with the young man.

The crouching detective fell slowly back into his swivel chair, a pout steadily creeping across his usually expressionless features. Light Yagami's appearance would no doubt hinder the investigation. It would create a stir among the others to add an entirely unpredictable variable into their already dysfunctional mix. L was confident that given the case's current stagnation, Yagami would do little to help things. Possibly, if he hadn't been related to Beyond's first victim, Yagami could have proved useful, but not now. Not when the case became personal. L didn't _do_ personal.

L also didn't tolerate ranting teenagers.

"Shut up!" he snapped abruptly, his voice slinging through the air and smacking both Matt and Near in the face. "Between the persistent shouting and the caustic, unimpressed rebuttals I can hardly hear myself think!"

The Wammy's House students blinked vacantly at him, his outburst surprising both of the teenagers.

Slowly, Near stood up and shuffled over to the table L was situated at. "Are you upset over the lack of progress in this case?" the petite boy inquired. "It's been less than a week L, you can't have expected Beyond to have been apprehended by now."

L let out a breath, reigning in his emotions. That had been the most confrontational statement he'd heard Near make all week, apparently the boy could take initiative when he wanted. He was perceptive as well, L granted Near that. Then again, the boy had excelled in his psychology classes, more than even L himself had when he'd been a student. To have the child call him out on it thought, it signaled L had been somewhat out of line. He knew he was frustrated, and he knew it wasn't fair to take such anger out on his successors. Unfortunately for his successors, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Of course he should be upset!" Matt countered, hoisting himself onto the solid wood table and plopping an M&M in his mouth. "He's solved cases in less than twelve hours before."

"Be that as it may, Beyond isn't any ordinary criminal, he's one of us," Near claimed, sternly eyeing Matt over L's head.

_One of us_, L turned the phrase over in his mind. Coming from Near's lips the phrase sounded cult like. The worst thing about it was that it was true. None of them were normal. No Wammy's House graduate had such a luxury. Sure, they could blend into the crowd of civilians, climb the ranks of political power with the most nefarious of politicians, and single handedly control the world's justice system. But they could never fit in as themselves. They were each tailor made to fit a specific purpose that was molded to their talents. It was in those aspects that Wammy's House fit the parameters of a conspiracy theory.

Matt gaped at Near, eyes widening in anger behind orange tinted lenses. "One of us? No he's not! He's weaker than we are. The bastard ran away because he couldn't take the pressure. _Mello_ is one of us. Mello deserves better than us just sitting around, looking at pictures of an embalmed corpse!" He gestured to the slide show that was cycling through on one of the TV monitors.

"I think he's stronger than us," L whispered thoughtfully.

"What?" Matt whipped his head to stare at L in shock. "Dear mentor, please explain what you just said!"

"Well it's as you said, actually. Except it's not. B didn't run, B escaped. I can't imagine thrusting any child into the Wammy life. We're given the responsibility that comes with intellect at a young age. But who's to say it was the proper thing to do?"

The question posed was more philosophical than L cared to deal with, but they needed to understand exactly who they were after. Plus, Watari seemed to be taking his time collecting Light Yagami, so there was little left for the three of them to do then discuss the babble of Beyond Birthday's mind.

"We're gifted children, we need to be challenged," Near answered with a shrug. "But I understand what you're saying. I don't think we'd be geniuses if we didn't contemplate it at least once. "

"Beyond's a murderer," Matt snapped. "To me, that makes him a coward. He ran because he couldn't stand up for what he wanted in his life. He couldn't stand up for his _friend_." Matt's hands gripped into the side of the table, his finger nails scratching across the underside of the wooden surface.

L glanced at Matt from the corner of his eye, inquiring. He often forgot that Matt had been a resident of The House during the A, B fiasco. "You remember him before he left?"

The pink haired teen bobbed his head up and down slowly. "I remember him obsessing over you. Now that I've actually met you in person I think he did a bang up job of mimicking your every move. In fact, it's incredibly creepy. But when he wasn't trying to become you he was hateful towards everything in The House. He despised living there, despised what the teachers made us do. Yet he took it all quietly. Until A died that is."

"That leaves five years in which he was unaccounted for," Near observed, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. "What do you think he did during that time?"

L lifted his legs and pushed off against the table with his feet, propelling his chair to spin across the floor towards the far window. "I don't wish to know what Beyond was doing for all those years. In fact," L turned to face the two teenagers, "I don't much care about what he was doing. I just want to catch him now, it's none of my concern as to what got him here."

"Well that's not something I ever expected the world's greatest detective to say."

A smooth voice danced across the air, permanently silencing the conversation that had been taking place. L turned his head to look over his shoulder and asses the man standing in the foyer of his hotel suite. Light Yagami leaned casually against the wall, his stance one of complete ease and calmness. The man had a way of making even a blank, plaster wall look like a princely throne.

"Explain," L demanded without so much as a 'how do you do' or, more appropriately in L's opinion, 'who the hell do you think you are.'

Light blinked in mild shock but complied with a shrug, walking further into the room. "A person's past is a clear indication for possible future avenues they may take as a criminal. Every profiler knows at least that much."

"I've never needed to look that far back into a criminal's past to apprehend them. One murder is usually enough," L responded breezily, turning the chair so it properly faced Yagami.

Light raised his eyebrows at the petulant detective. "So then where is Beyond?"

A chocking laughter caught both L's and Light's attention. Matt sat on the table, his hand held to his face as he tried to control his mirth. L rolled his eyes at the younger boy's antics and snapped his gaze back to Light Yagami who was already staring down at him in mild amusement.

"What are you doing here?"

Light removed the laptop case that had been strung across his shoulder and rifled through it for a moment. "I came to give you these." He pulled a thick, manila file from the brown leather case and handed it to L. The detective made no move to take the offered papers.

"Watari!"

At L's call the elderly man came walking into the room, a cart piled with an assortment of miscellaneous desserts as well as a small plate of sandwiches being pulled after him. "Yes L?"

"Take the file."

Watari glanced at the file Light was holding out quizzically and then back and forth between his ward and the young man he had just fetched from the hotel lobby and sighed. "I'm afraid, L, that I did not bring Light Yagami up here for you and him to engage in a pissing contest."

L gaped, scandalized at his mentor before scowling. "I'd like you to make scans of the file's contents for Matt and Near, Mr. Yagami here can brief us on its contents." The detective then turned from Watari in dismissal, a pout firmly lodged on his place.

He watched Watari shake his head and walk out of the room through the reflection of the window. He supposed Watari had a point, but L was still in charge of the investigation, no matter how informal of an investigation it was. As such, L had every right to test those under him in any way he saw fit. The raven haired man honestly had no idea why the inventor was always against his methods of ascertaining an agent's worth, they were _effective_. L shook his head and turned back to face the group. Near, Matt, and Light were each looking at him expectantly.

L placed a thumb in his mouth and glanced at the auburn haired twenty year old. "How did you conclude Matt worked for me? No doubt that is how you deduced I was here."

"Well it was rather obvious he wasn't a real cop," Light glanced at Matt offhandedly, "no offense."

L spared a glare at his successor before nodding to Light for an explanation. "And how exactly were you able to determine that Mr. Yagami, Matt's unprofessional behavior notwithstanding."

"Actually he was very professional, if not a little too helpful. Honestly, it was more a feeling I got from him, as well as an evaluation of his probable age. He's too young to be coming out of police training, that I know for a fact," Light spoke with a grimace. "But mainly it was the last mistake he made that clued me in."

"What was that?" Matt asked. The goggle eyed boy leaned forward slightly, the gaming device in his hands tilting towards the floor, a sign he was actually paying attention to what was being said.

Light smiled faintly. "I called for help as you were leaving the crime scene. You were the only officer who didn't turn to look. It suggested you had a different goal in mind than helping the innocent," the last word fell from Light's lips with a slightly acidic bite to it, one L did not miss. "In this case, you were collecting case data from the crime scene," the young man concluded.

It was a simple deduction. What was impressive was the amount of time it took to devise the plan. No doubt Yagami had only had a span of seconds to formulate the ploy. The boy was quick on his feet, something L regarded highly, as well as something he'd observed his successors lacking in sufficiently. It was either that, or the two boys did not possess the inclination to use their intelligence as efficiently as possible. The latter may have been the case, judging by the amount of time Matt had spent dancing around the Yagami family at the crime scene.

"How were you able to conclude that Matt worked for me?" L asked, propelling his chair off the window so he could spin in lazy circles. "I can't imagine you were presented with enough details to lead the trail of information back to me."

"I got this," Light pulled a piece of paper from the inside of his jacket, "a few weeks ago." Light hadn't expected the raven haired detective to acknowledge the document outwardly, but surprisingly L stopped spinning in circles and reached out to snatch paper from his grasp. Stupefied by the surprising motion Light blinked once before continuing his explanation. "It's about Beyond Birthday's escape. I assume you wanted to keep the investigation under wraps, thus the lack of police knowledge of B's current location, but the California Penitentiary you dumped him in saw fit to inform individuals who had a history with the man. This included myself, as well as Naomi Misora."

L's eyes flew across the page, irritation growing as he moved over the short, to the point, paragraphs. "And what lead you to conclude I'm here for B?" the detective drawled.

Light rolled his eyes. Was the man really going to continue with this? "Who else would you be after?" he spat incredulously. Light had no idea who L was trying to fool; a fifth grader could have worked it out.

L nodded in mild acceptance, relishing the irritation growing in the boy's eyes. L knew it took a lot of patience to work with a man like him, and L prided himself for his high maintenance, demanding behavior. It ensured only those who were truly dedicated to the cause, whatever that was, worked under him. Light Yagami seemed to be of a similar nature, which L knew could be highly entertaining for himself. He'd have fun pushing the boy's buttons. But the boy was out of the question.

"I suppose you wish to know how I found you?" Light commented, warily crossing his arms in hopes of masking his frustration.

L looked up at Yagami, a smirk growing just behind his irises but not reaching his face. "No, I don't much care to know actually."

Indignation pooled across Light's neck, but before it could be unleashed upon the detective Matt broke in. "Who care if you don't want to know," the teen snapped. "I for one however would like to know! Please tell me you didn't follow me!" he practically begged Light.

Light's brows furrowed as he shook his head. "No I didn't follow you."

"Hah!" the pink haired teen rounded on Near. "See, it's not my fault!"

Light snorted in bemusement. "I work for Naomi Misora, who you've employed on countless occasions. Why I've no idea, the woman's annoying. But she'd told me enough regarding your person to know you'd be staying in a luxury hotel," he said, ignoring L's earlier declaration. "I've been standing for an hour in each upscale hotel lobby within a five mile radius of the crime scene hoping that's all it would take for you to single me out."

L emitted a hiss of annoyance and finally sprung out of his chair. Did no one understand what a confidentiality agreement entailed anymore? At the very least the monetary threat he was holding over the California State Prison System and Naomi Misora should have been enough to ward them off of blabbing.

Misora had always been a little too willful for his liking, but that was probably why he liked her. She was a woman of incredible personal strength with a moral code no one could bend at all. As a woman, those traits tended to cause resentment from her superiors, and occasionally her coworkers just before they got to know her better. It really was unsurprising that, when L'd begun poking into Yagami's files and asking questions, Naomi had alerted the young man. She was the type of agent who found his methods questionable. What made her one of his favorites was that she didn't bitch about it like all the others.

A polite cough drew L's attention back to the room's occupants. L glanced at Near, the small boy was giving Light a pointed look, like a predatory bird trying to decide if it's prey was worth devouring. With the limited amount of information L had on Light Yagami, he thought it would be amusing to see the two ever face off against each other. Matt's eyes moved back and forth between the two uncertainly.

"So L," Light intoned. "Why don't we bypass these pleasantries and you ask me what you originally wanted to ask last week." The auburn haired man smirked in a pleased gesture of victory. His eyes glinted charmingly, but L could feel the challenge radiating from them.

"Why would I ask a question I already know the answer to Mr. Yagami?"

"So you were aware my answer would be no?"

Light took pleasure in the expression that fell across L's face, like theater curtains coming undone and tumbling to the stage floor right before the finale.

Rejection was not something L had to face often, mainly because everyone wanted to work with him. He was _L_ for god's sake. If the boy wasn't there to grovel and beg to work with the greatest detective in the world then what the hell had been gallivanting across London, chatting up cute hotel receptionists, for hours for?

"I wasn't lying when I said I came to give you the file," Light admitted, moving to stand directly in front of the detective. "There's only so much you could possibly gain from a mediocre undercover agent." A pair of eyes glared out through the fringe of pink hair, but Light ignored it. "Before your mild interrogation, I believe you mentioned I'd brief you on the contents of the file? It contains all the data from the current crime scene. The information I think you'll find of most significance to be the autopsy. Certain fibers were found in Rei's hair, fibers not found in any other area of the parking garage."

L stared hard at Light. "And you only came to give me this information?"

"You're chasing Beyond here L. You're not going to catch him without having someone on the inside. Wouldn't it be a shame if I, a mere psychologist, got to him before you did?"

L nibbled his thumb, an expression of dark thoughtfulness occupying his eyes as he stared down Light Yagami. The boy was more intelligent than L had originally thought, it was a frightening prospect. Near and Matt observed the two from the background, a slight steam of anticipation flowing, mentally between the two teens.

Light smiled warmly at L, enjoying the itch he'd personally spurred into the detectives mind far too much. "Well L, I thank you for your time and will not impose on you any longer. Also, extend my thanks to Watari for me?"

Light turned on his heel and strode purposefully out of the hotel room and into the small hallway that extended towards the elevator. If all went well, L would do exactly what was required of him.

3B

Mello was unceremoniously thrown backwards, his head bouncing against the ballroom's marble flooring, sending an unpleasant crack to echo out through the hall.

"What the hell!" Mello demanded, blinking the stars of a concussion from his eyes. A leering grin swam into focus as Mello found a thin, red fabric tickling his cheek.

Beyond Birthday spun away from the boy as soon as it became apparent that he hadn't inflicted any critical damage upon his ward, permanent maybe, given the small area of Mello's head that had begun to turn a light red with blood, but nothing too serious. "Don't I look pretty!" the murderer cried with a gleeful cackle.

Mello tenderly sat up, bringing his hand up to the side of his head in a vain attempt to control the dull pain B had graced him with. It took him a minute to fully take in everything Beyond was wearing. "Are you wearing a _dress_?"

"It's a corset skirt actually," B said seriously. "But to us men folk, I suppose there is little discernable difference."

The blonde prodigy stood uncertainly, trying to keep himself from toppling back onto his ass as he approached Beyond. Indeed, Mello saw the black, lace skirt was an extension of the black corset cinched around Beyond's narrow waist. A white dress shirt was neatly tucked into the skirt, while a chain collar roped around the man's pale neck and then ran across his chest to loop around his arm. Red stockings glared brightly from Beyond's legs, clashing horribly with the man's combat boots. The worst of the ensemble Mellow found though was the large, black and white, poke-a-dot bow secured to atop B's head. From the bow, cascading across B's face and highlighting the man's vicious red eyes, was a thin veil of red fabric.

B smirked as Mello's eyes widened in apprehension at the sight before him. "So are you ready?" the serial killer intoned.

"Ready for what?"

"We're going out Little Dear!"

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A/N:

Thank you for reading! Please Review!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I wanted to post this yesterday, hence the fact it's going up today.

WARNING: Note how what was ones an innocent little T in the left hand corner has now magically transformed into a courageous M. My little story's growing up so fast…

No sex... yet I suppose... But Beyond's beginning to be naughty. ;D Now, my advice, because I know some people can be… touché… just enjoy it.

Also, thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I really appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, hence I make no money off of this.

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Chapter 9

The moment Light vacated the room, L leapt out of his seat and raced to one of the TV monitors lining his wall. Methodically his eyes grazed over the image of Beyond's first victim, searching something out. And there it was, so small L couldn't believe he'd missed it. A fiber stuck out from the woman's hair, a bluish tint in color. Mentally L berated himself for not catching the detail that was so obviously a carpet fiber, but he quickly dispelled the thoughts and turned to blaming it all on Matt and Near. It was just easier that way.

Rapidly he pulled a keyboard towards his chest and hunched over it, fingers pounding against the keys in a rhythm of rapid thought. The carpet fiber could allude to a multitude of different things. More than likely it was a fiber from the scene where he'd find Beyond's next victim, suggesting B had already picked his location. If such was the case than it was likely B had selected every future crime scene already. It was a bold move, one that lent itself well to possible oversights on Beyond's part. The only way L could possibly benefit from that though was if he got to the scene in time.

…and if there was more than one after the next.

L shook his head of the bleak thought and returned to his previous train of thought. Zooming in on the fiber L quickly began to analyze its details. His mind quickly ruled out shag and plush, the thin strand was coarser in appearance than either option. By no means was it a quality fabric and L's toes twitched at the thought of standing in it. In practically the same second he placed it as a lost strand from a discount carpet brand. He was unable to deduce the exact brand, but he could see the cheap quality in the twist of the fiber, the frayed edge, and the slight dusting of white, most likely asbestos. There was no doubt in his mind the fiber came from an outlet store, or ended up in an older, less affluent home.

"Near, I need you to pull up every carpet warehouse in a fifteen mile radius and cross check it with this fiber seen here," L demand, as he moved from his chair, intent on finding the report Light Yagami had just passed off to Watari minutes earlier. "And get Matt back in here. I need him."

Near didn't even acknowledge his mentor before moving to take L's vacated seat. The detective was no doubt berating himself for the oversight, but Near concluded that L hadn't exactly been operating with his usual amount of focus. Beyond was a personal matter despite what L wanted to delude himself into thinking. No matter what the detective did, he was still human. Perhaps it would do L some good to have someone remind him of that small fact.

Near himself had yet to draw any decisive conclusions regarding the case at hand. To him it was too soon, like being handed three corner pieces of a puzzle and one center piece. He didn't have enough information to draw a patent picture. There only existed the parameters with which he could operate within, guided by Beyond's cryptic note and a piece of carpet fiber.

The boy scowled at the small piece of flooring that was smiling at him from the monitor to his right. He knew that he was here to assist L, as well as gain some amount of field experience, but that didn't stop him from begrudging the menial task. He'd been hoping for something a little more challenging than a search engine, even if it was encrypted and required tying in a code he's only learned the day before flying out to London.

The results of the search binged across the screen and Near committed the factory and store names to memory. Turning back to the innocent carpet fiber, Near began twirling a lock of hair around his finger. Immediately his other hand danced across the key board and brought up a copy of the note.

'_After removing the carpet from the room,'_

Near's eyes narrowed at the sentence. The sentence called upon one of the themes to Beyond's last crime spree, the notion of something that was supposed to be there not being present. It was that very premise which had led from one crime scene to another, and ultimately to Beyond himself, which was exactly what Beyond had intended to happen. Things just hadn't gone precisely according to the murderer's plan. It was strange for Near to consider Beyond would be calling upon the exact same pattern this time around given his previous failure. It seemed too simple, too easy to follow, especially now that L held the strings to more capable people than Naomi Misora. Unless B wanted it to be easy this easy, it was almost as if he needed them to follow him quickly.

'_After removing the carpet from the room'_

The carpet was key, that much was obvious; otherwise it wouldn't be on the victim's body and in B's note. Without doubt it led to the next crime scene, the place they'd catch Beyond. But why the carpet would be removed if it was from a carpet warehouse, as L's parting declaration had implied, was not clicking in Near's mind. There were too many places in London with cheap carpeting. …but how many were having carpet removed?

Near's eyes widened and both hands fell to the key board as he rapidly began pounding in strings of code.

Without notice the boy popped a marshmallow into his mouth, his excitement building as he became more intent on bring his results down to one location. Abruptly Near blinked, eyes moving to the bowl of fluffy white sugar directly beside him as if he was only just realizing what he'd done. Perhaps he'd been spending too much time observing L.

3B

Matt ran from the hotel suite and into the hall, leaping his way into the elevator, turning sideways to avoid being clipped by the shutting doors and falling to the floor of the descending box in a less than graceful heap. As he stopped to catch his breath, he could feel Light's widened eyes on the top of his head. He could also quiet easily imagine the judgments forming in the other genius's mind. Nothing at all odd about a pink haired kid throwing himself at you, no nothing strange about that at all. Actually, Matt considered, things like that probably happen to Light Yagami all the time.

Picking himself up Matt grinned uncertainly at the elevator's other occupant. It wasn't like him to take action without thinking, things such as that tended to fall into Mello's line of expertise. In fact, it wasn't like Matt to do something like this at all. Action was overrated. But there were times when things needed to be said and understood. This, his Wammy educated brain informed him, was one of them.

"_Seriously _dude?" Matt gritted at the taller male, eyeing him with a look of sheer disbelief, as well a healthy dose of begrudging respect.

Light's eyebrows disappeared beneath the fringe of his bangs, but he said nothing, merely gracing Matt with an expression of deep bemusement.

Matt sighed in agitation. "You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed.

Light chuckled. "I'm afraid you have me at a loss."

_Liar, liar_, Matt thought darkly. "Man, I come from a place where people worship that man and all that he stands for. Hell, it's more than that! They fantasize about meeting him, about being worthy of the cake crumbs that fall off his shirt! And here, you are, waltzing in and saying you don't want to work for him?" Matt finished his tirade incredulously, breathing deeply. He was offended where L lacked the ability to be offended. Or maybe the detective was equally irritated by Light's blatant disrespect and simply didn't think it was necessary to show such emotion to anything other than the closed bakery across the street. Either way it fell to Matt to defend L. It was how he'd been raised.

"Pardon me for saying this," Light replied pointedly. "But an entire establishment built around one man? That doesn't sound incredibly healthy."

_Shit,_ Matt thought, his words finally catching up with him. "That wasn't what I meant," the boy snapped, grappling to salvage what he could already see was a lost cause. "Everyone the world over knows of L, you can't say there aren't people who want to work with him. Isn't that supposedly the wet dream of every person working in law enforcement?"

"So you're saying you come from a place where everyone is being tailored to work in the criminal justice system and you all look up to L?" Light asked innocently, his deductions streamlined.

Matt gaped, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid. There was a reason he never acted impulsively, even when playing a video game. Otherwise things like this tended to happen. Matt wasn't very good at thinking on his feet, especially when under the pressure of an amused, twinkling set of eyes. God, Light Yagami was ridiculously attractive… Shit.

Shaking the wayward thought from his head Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Light held up a hand, halting Matt's next sentence, a kind smile on his face. "Perhaps you want to stop there before Watari has to come down and shoot me for deducing too much. But based on what you've just revealed to me, I'd say you and L both hail from the same origins."

Matt huffed and leaned himself against the wall of the elevator, drawing in even breaths as he fished his PSP from the pocket of his jeans. He'd unquestionably need some external stimuli to better follow this conversation and ensure he didn't say anything stupid.

Not even acknowledging his companion's actions, Light continued. "I have to say it's admirable that you so readily come to his defense. Well, admirable or disturbing. Either way I'm intrigued. But the fact of the matter is, while you already seem to exist under L's radar, I don't. And when dealing with an individual like him sometimes one needs to make a statement that get's immediate attention."

It took Matt a second for the words to sink in. When they did he looked up from the hand held game and blinked at the man standing casually before him. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm afraid not."

Matt shook his head, a grim smile on his lips as his gaze lowered back to the game. "I don't think anyone but Watari's talked to L that way," Matt muttered. "You could've been killed for that you know."

Light snorted. "He's a detective, not a Mob boss."

"At times it's hard to discern the difference," Matt grumbled. L had a method of barking out orders while slurping down butter cream frosting in the same sentence that threatened death if one deviated ever so slightly from the detective's demands. The only people Matt had seen immune to the authority was Watari, and now the attractive man he was riding in an elevator with. Attractive… Matt didn't even want to contemplate where that was coming from, it just needed to stop.

Light smirked at the corner of his mouth. "So what about you?"

Matt glanced up at Light. "What about me?"

"Do you aspire to the throne of The World's Greatest Detective?" Light inquired. Matt couldn't tell if the man was toying with him or genuinely curious. It was difficult to sense sincerity in Light Yagami, he was like L that way. They both maintained an air of the untouchable, as if no one could adequately read what the intentions behind their actions. Add to that the fact that the man was practically oozing of disarming charm and understated sex appeal, something Matt hadn't taken the time to notice until that moment. It was confusing as hell, as well as annoying.

Matt's concentration moved further towards the beeping sounds coming from his hands. "No, I don't. Honestly, detective work never interested me."

Light's head tilted towards the side. "Then why are you here?"

"To help L," was the succinct reply.

Light's smirk grew. "That's all there is to it? He calls and you, what? Drop everything and rush to accommodate him?"

Matt punched the right trigger of the gaming device a little harder than necessary, eyes narrowing as a Muslim Extremist's head blew off. He didn't know what he had hoped to accomplish here anymore, but he did know he was being insulted. The crux of the matter was that there was absolutely no reason at all for Light Yagami to be doing so. The arrogance of it all was irritating, and strongly reminded him of Mello. As did the faint scent of bitter sweetness that came off of Light, though Matt didn't think the scent had anything to do with chocolate. Coffee perhaps… Why the hell was he thinking these things?

"Unlike you I don't need to be overdramatic in order to get L's attention." Matt did his best to look as apathetic to the bating comments as possible while sneaking a glance at the elevators progress. They still had eighteen floors to go until they reached the lobby. Ah hell.

Light chuckled, a sound that was beginning to drive Matt beyond the point of frustration. Usually Mello was the only one able to get a rise out of him, but the situation was quickly deteriorating through Matt's fingers. Nothing had phased Yagami in the slightest, in fact, it seemed as if he already knew everything Matt was about to say. The teen was accomplishing nothing, he couldn't even remember what he'd come to talk about. There had to have been more to his goal than just L, right?

It seemed as if Light was waiting for Matt to reach that same conclusion. Preferably before the elevator door's dinged open if the man's impatient sigh was anything to go by.

"Do you really want to work on the case, or are you just here to piss L off?" Matt finally spoke over the soft techno music being emitted by his PSP.

Light frowned slightly at the quip but answered nonetheless. "I'll admit that Beyond Birthday is of personal interest to me." His voice was level as he lolled his head back against the wall of the elevator, but a faint hint of anxiety was present in the stiffness of Light's back. "He is perhaps the most intriguing human being I've ever met."

Matt's eyebrows rose but he didn't look up. "Beyond? Human?" He left the questions there, but the judgment was reaching Light's ears all the same.

"You know him?" Light prompted.

Matt hesitated, weighing the consequence of revealing such information to Light. Quickly he did the math; none of the answers came up negative so he responded honestly. "I did. Sickest bastard I ever met."

Light's head bobbed up and down. "I'll testify to that I suppose," he murmured.

Matt didn't quite know what to make of the comment. It possessed such little emotion that he didn't know if should take the sign as a good one or a bad one. Light was obviously contemplating the murderer, probably thinking of the last time he'd seen Beyond. Why Light would want to do that, Matt had no friggen clue. He himself had been doing all he could to keep the thought of Beyond from his reaching his head, otherwise he could say good bye to sleep for the remainder of his youth. There was however something decidedly respectful in the way Light had spoken, like he respected, perhaps even valued, the mass murderer. It was something Matt couldn't fathom. At least L hailed from the proper side of the moral spectrum. Beyond Birthday wasn't anywhere the hell on that spectrum.

"L knew him as well I take it then?" Light's voice broke through the string of thoughts running slowly through Matt's mind.

Blinking quickly, Matt was silent as everything suddenly clicked in his mind. "You need L to get to Beyond," he said, voice laced with unveiled surprise. Despite the accusation, his eye's never wavered from the miniature screen between his fingers. If he did he feared he loose all track of valuable thought, everyone else who said his brain would turn to mush could just go screw themselves. "That's why you're here. Never mind the fact that you seem to have more resources at your disposal than L currently does. Beyond's targeting him. So you're targeting L."

Light's eyebrows rose once more. "If B's targeting L as you say he is, than why was his first victim my future sister in law?"

The question played through Matt's mind, but Light spoke before he could properly devise the counter argument he knew existed.

"I'm playing the game as B wants it to be played," he said candidly, sensing the pink haired teens dislike of the situation. "At the moment, I don't know what he's planning, or if there even is a method to the so called madness. But I do know Beyond killed my future sister in law, not only to draw L out, but to lead me to L. He wants me working with L and I need to know why."

Matt blinked. If he hadn't believed the nerve of the man standing in front of him before, he sure as hell didn't now. A game? That's all this was to him, some measly game? The way he said it could make one think he was talking about playing poker. Mello's life was in jeopardy, literally in the hands of a walking disease and Light, the arrogant sod, had the audacity to call it a game. In that moment Matt couldn't very well distinguish the difference between Light Yagami and L. They were both callous bastards, L was just more upfront about it.

"I see my words don't exactly please you," Light drawled without an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Matt glared hard, yanking his goggles down over his eyes in a vain attempt to combat the malice that had suddenly overtaken Yagami. The man was finally flying his true colors here.

"I sincerely urge you to grow up kiddo," Light condescended upon the fuming teenager. "Beyond doesn't play nicely, and yes that's exactly what he's doing. He's playing with you. Is there an end to this disturbing play of chess? Of course there is, but I don't know what yet. And neither does L, though I'm fairly sure he has his suspicions. Out of everyone here he should know B the best. At least I sincerely hope he does."

Matt openly gaped, but he refused to move his eyes from the electronic he was clinging so desperately to.

"The only way to apprehend Beyond is to play the game with the pieces he hands you. And you pray to whatever deity you believe in that you can outplay him for as long as it takes."

Matt finally glanced up from his PSP and looked Light straight in the eye. An indomitable hardness was shining in the amber orbs opposite him. A resolution so concrete Matt was at a loss of what to make of it. The raw emotion Light's being was pulsing with overwhelmed the small cubicle with a truth so suffocating Matt let out a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally dinged open. Instantaneously, Light reverted back to his charming persona, the façade firmly in place as he took a step towards the Hotel lobby.

Abruptly Matt grabbed Light's arm, causing the man to stop and look back over his shoulder at the teen. "You said first," Matt recalled slowly. "Who do you thinks going to be next?"

Light blinked at Matt, confused for a moment. The boy seemed hesitant, as if the answer to that particular question was something he didn't want to hear. As if he feared the very answer itself. "B kidnapped someone, didn't he?" Light finally deduced after a moment of silence. The war of emotions that fell across Matt's face in response to the inquiry were answer enough, and Matt knew he'd just given away the most important piece of the puzzle.

But something in him had snapped at Light's assessment of B's character. L needed more than two teenagers, even if they were certified geniuses, to crack this case, to crack Beyond Birthday. L needed someone who knew how to handle B, how to read him and respond without getting himself killed. It was a pre requisite if they even wanted to maintain the fantasy of getting Mello back. Matt couldn't help but feel that Light Yagami was there best bet in those regards.

"I'll be in touch," Light said softly, depositing his hand on Matt's shoulder briefly before he turned and walked towards the door.

3B

Mello's went slack, a welcome sign for winged insects practically hanging off his teeth. "Why exactly are you wearing that?"

B grinned spastically at his conquest. "To hide my pretty burns of course. They tend to put people off when I go out in public. Disgusting hypocrites, all mad that they don't get to look as pretty as I do." A sneer wormed its way across B's lips before he brightened up and through a pile of clothes at Mello. "You can wear this!"

Catching the material Mello's jaw dropped as he stared at the proffered leather, scoffing. "I am not wearing that! What the hell do I look like? A chippendale?"

Mello didn't even see the boot coming, but the side of it swiped right across his stomach, pummeling him backwards. He skidded across the marble flooring before rolling to a halt against one of the large pillars supporting the ballroom's gilded ceiling. Just as Mello turned to pick himself back up a slice of silver stopped him. Beyond held the large, kitchen knife firmly against Mello's neck, creating a small cut across the boy's pale skin. A tiny rivulet of blood leaked from the tip of the knife and down Mello's collar bone. B's spidery hand combed itself into Mello's hair as a soft 'tut tut' was whispered into the blonde's ear.

"What have I told you about _such protesting_ Little Dear?"

Mello attempted to back himself away from the knife's sharpened edge, but stilled when his back came into contact with the skeletal form of Beyond. Even through the tulle and frills of B's ensemble, the man's thin frame still cut through.

Mello's lips formed a thin line of anger. "That you like it," the blonde spat quietly, trying his best to keep his movements to a minimum so as to avoid Beyond's knife.

A chuckle came from behind his head. "So bold Little Dear. Could that possibly suggest a death wish? I know every kid at Wammy's has one. Tell me, Little Dear, what's yours? I'd be more than happy to oblige you in that innocent fantasy."

"What's so innocent about a death wish?" Mello asked, craning his head back so he could at least see the top of Beyond's head. He hated not being able to meet the bastard in the eyes.

The murderer quickly removed his hands from Mello and stood back, a steel gaze directed at the boy. The kid hadn't denied the accusation and it annoyed B. "It's as innocent as you could ever have."

Mello didn't even bother to glance at his captor as he stood. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt down and pressed it to his throat, halting the trickle of blood B had drawn. The cut stung as the rough fibers brushed against it, but Mello held in the wince and waited for the pain to abate. This conversation was stupid, the boy decided as he plucked the offending leather pants from the floor. Matt would chop his fingers off if he ever found out about it, his best friend always got testy whenever Mello hinted at wanting less than life.

The leather felt surprisingly soft between Mello's fingers. It was like butter, creamy and cool, yet impervious to almost everything. He'd never considered wearing lace up leather to be a comfortable thing, but considering the article of clothing he currently held, he admitted his assessment may have been miscalculated.

"Why leather?" Mello asked, turning back to face Beyond.

B cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Would anyone ever think of you being one to wear leather? Now please quit staling Little Dear. My patience only lasts so long, and I'm getting _bored_."

Mello huffed and conceded the point. He may have been the most impulsive, rebellious child to have terrorized the halls of Wammy's House, but it wasn't bloody likely anyone would ever see him in leather. Mello was a creature of comfort, not an exhibitionist goddamnit. He rejected anything, besides chocolate, materialistic. God, how long had it been since he'd last had a bite of the confectionary goodness anyway? Too long, the blonde summarized, which would explain the action of dropped the pants Beyond had thrown at him back on the floor.

The murderer was about to protest the action until he heard the unzipping of a zipper. Red eyes widened in fascination as the blonde moved his hips back and forth to remove his jeans from his legs.

Mello could feel the weight of Beyond's eyes as he stripped. The serial killer seemed the type to enjoy taking advantage of people, or perhaps he just enjoyed taking them period. Allowing a slight smirk to rise across his features, Mello continued with the show, running his hands down his claves to roughly tug the layer of denim from his body. He wondered how far he could push it, how far he could push the murderer. The jeans came off and were thrown carelessly across the ballroom. Mello would unquestionably be the first to admit he had no idea what he was doing. But something was driving him forward, and he figured he'd gleaned enough about Beyond in the past few days to handle the situation. At least until Beyond reacted. After that Mello didn't know what would happen. But that was half the fun.

Bending over, Mello made a show of his ass for B. He knew he was possibly overdoing it, but Mello found the action to be entertaining. It thrilled him to offer himself up to Beyond in such a manner, yet he still maintained control over his own actions. With one last flourish, Mello pulled the leather onto his legs and strung the laces together, turning with a blank face to face B.

It was time to change the rules and break the stagnation that had fallen between Beyond and himself. Mello was done sitting on his ass doing nothing. He stood his ground as B predatorily stalked towards him.

The attire wasn't tight fitting; it hung loosely on the boy's thin hips, exposing a thin sliver of porcelain flesh. From there it simply dropped to obscure his legs, just barely brushing Mello's thighs. B rested his hand gently on the exposed hip bone while his other crept slowly down the opposite hip, flowing over the black leather like a contaminating sludge. The murderer groped into the trembling leg, smiling at the boy's sharp intake of breath. Steadily Beyond began to move his hand in circles over Mello's thigh, the thick fabric moving with his palm, soothing and chafing the unblemished skin the clothing covered.

"You're not ready to play_ this_ game yet Little Dear," Beyond hissed against Mello's ear, the syllables stinging the tender skin.

Repressing a shiver, Mello glared up at the man holding him in place defiantly. "Or maybe you're just scared of what will happen if I do."

B smirked. "Then perhaps it's time I moved forward and taught you how." With that said his lips descended upon the boy's collar bone. Without warning and without care Beyond bit down, sucking on the flesh with the intent of creating a mark the blonde would never be able to forget. He smiled against Mello's neck as a low whimper came from the boy's throat.

Without warning he released the boy and spun him around so they were now facing each other. A feral growl came through B's lips as he pushed the boy back so the two of them were falling to the floor in a heap. Wrapping his arms around Mello's head, B took care to cushion it as it fell against the marble, ensuring no more head trauma would befall the teenager. Mello gasped as Beyond's body was suddenly pressed tightly against his own. The coldness of the marble seeped into his skin though the thin fabric of his tee shirt while the sudden warmth of Beyond's body heat infiltrated his senses at the same moment. B's hands nimbly unwound themselves from the back of Mello's head and daintily danced down his shoulders. Mello winced as the hands clamped tightly onto his upper arms, bruising the flesh and pinning him in place.

Mello kicked violently against the hold, squirming beneath Beyond's hold. He wouldn't let this happen. He didn't even know what was happening. But he wasn't going to let B continue any further. Mello bucked his hips upwards, clashing them against Beyond's own. But the action only seemed to excite the murderer.

"I'm sorry Little Dear? Has this been unpleasant _for _you thus far? Allow me to remedy the situation."

A hand slipped from one of Mello's arms and tickled its way down the length of the boy's torso. Slowly the appendage came to rest directly above the band of Mello's pants. With a gleeful cackle Beyond plummeted his hand beneath the band and finally received the reaction he'd been waiting days for.

"NO!" Mello shouted.

The side of a fist connected with the side of Beyond's head and the murderer tumbled from his spot on Mello's chest, laughing all the way. Mello lunged over the older male, pinning Beyond to the ground in much the same manner B had previously captured him. Hair fell loosely across the disturbed boy's face, framing enraged orbs of green in a tangled halo of fury. B cackled gleefully as Mello's hips crashed atop his own, straddling the man against the floor. The boy's passion was palpable, singing the air with an emotional turmoil more wretched than the worst of storms. Beyond's echoing laughter did nothing to improve the teenager's anger.

Beyond had been expecting this reaction from the beginning, waiting for it, longing for it even. He'd seen the Wammy's House files and knew the type of rage Mello was capable of. The murderer had done enough of his homework to know that the snarky attitude he'd been graced with these past few days was only a small crack into the young prodigy's psyche, a fissure of minute release, beneath which existed a reservoir of volcanic activity. It was more complex then rage and fear though. Beyond needed to give the gold star where it was due and Mello was more complex than that. The boy needed to be in order to survive The House and come out number two. The compliance, the grudging respect, it had been nothing more than an act on Mello's part. B wagered from the start that it would only be a matter of time before he did something that truly unleashed Mello from all he'd been taught. And he'd also placed a large bet that the teen wouldn't yet have the resources to fight back in a way beyond physical violence. The only fact Beyond lamented was that it took an act of near sexual abuse to hit the metaphorical nail on the coffin of Mello's future at Wammy's House. Building some form of trust after this, no matter how perverse any form of trust with B had to be, would prove be a challenge.

"Fuck you!" Mello spat into Beyond's face. "FUCK YOU!"

B smiled a grin more corrosive than acid. "I was trying to let you but you stopped me."

Another wave of hatred washed itself across Mello's features, encouraging him to lift Beyond's upper body off the ground as much he could and slam him back down, hard.

"What's wrong Mello?" he snapped, grimacing as his head cracked on the floor, but he did nothing more than smile bitterly up at the teen. Briefly he regretted the decision of renting out a room with a marble floor, but at no time had B expected it'd be his own head being slammed against it. "Did I do something you didn't like? Were you uncomfortable _with _my advances?" the murderer mocked asininely.

"The hell are you getting off on!" Mello growled, chipped nails digging into Beyond's skin in an attempt to wring more pain out of the serial killer. "What are you trying to de here? Huh? WHAT?"

Tears had sprung into the younger's eyes, dripping onto Beyond's cheek. So maybe he'd taken it a little too far, B thought absently. But more often than not it took a shock to get someone to listen.

"I'm a strong believer in hatred Mello, a strong grudge can do wonders for your conscience," B replied dully. For a brief moment, as Mello stared straight into the nightmarish red eyes and heard those pale lips utter his alias instead of the obstinate nickname he'd been bestowed, Mello saw something in Beyond the murder had yet to reveal. Sanity, cold, crystalline sanity. Beyond knew exactly what he was doing.

Mello simpered in surprise before rolling off his captor and onto his back, gazing at the ceiling in defeat. He cursed himself for losing control. It had always been his downfall in The House. He was brash, acted out before fully understanding why or even what would happen after the fact. But Beyond's words had just tinged those impulsive, spiteful manipulations with something he was not at all comfortable with.

As depressing a fact as it was, Mello couldn't ever say he'd hated anyone. For his family, before Wammy's House, there'd been nothing but bitterness, a sour stench that left Mello repulsed. But he'd never hated his parents, he'd never thought they were worth it. Everyone at the house was under the impression he hated Near, but that wasn't true. You couldn't hate what you respected. And without Near, the House would have little meaning for Mello. There was no use in an easy game, and the blonde had to admit that Near made things interesting. To hate the boy for being better than him at, well, _everything_, Mello wasn't that petty.

He didn't have anything to hate. And that was why Beyond's words confused him. What did B hate? The obvious answer was L. After that, maybe Watari. He supposed the man had enough reasons to hate the both of him, if one considered things from the murdered twisted point of view. Sad things was, Mello sympathized, more than he cared to admit. But it was there and the more the teenager contemplated all things Beyond the more he realized there was more to it than what he'd initially taken the time to think about. It was because they were so alike that Mello knew this fact to be true. Hatred alone wasn't enough to drive Mello anywhere, hence the reason he never felt it. What Mello did have was a lot of was passion, the thirst to prove himself worthy, to be better than everyone else and shove it in their judgmental faces.

Mello sat up and stared at Beyond's back, tracing the lace ruffles decorating the man's person with his eyes as B left the room. Slowly the gaze morphed itself into a narrowed glare. He understood then. Though the ultimate goal was unclear, Mello understood there was more to Beyond and what he was doing than toying with L and, by extension, Watari. Beyond wanted to accomplish something greater, he wanted to prove himself.

Standing Mello walked out of the ballroom, following Beyond. He couldn't sit and wait for someone to save him from Beyond. It'd taken a few days, but Mello had already adapted to his situation. This was a game he needed to play. And it was one he was determined to win.

3B

L stared blankly at the pages he'd spread around him. He could hear Near fussing around the main room, no doubt en route to some conclusion he'd stumbled upon. Good for him, L thought absently, plucking a lollipop from the cup of tea he'd been bathing it in. The sweet and bitter flavors clashed against his tongue, sending a jolt of thought through to his synapses.

The case file Light Yagami had dropped off minutes ago was in no way thorough. It was already apparent the police were in over their head with the case, as they usually were. Though honestly L couldn't fault them for that, it was Beyond Birthday they were unknowingly dealing with after all. As loathe as L was to admit it, the murder was a capable criminal. As well as an actor, the detective thought mildly. Inattentively, L moved his thumb to his mouth, lining it against his lips with the lollipop. He wasn't going to go down that road, not now.

Light Yagami. He needed to focus on the Japanese native for the moment, not Beyond's sordid past. He'd been shocked to find the young man in London, more so to see him standing in his hotel lobby, flirting with his receptionist for the better part of an hour. Discerning the younger man's motives beyond that was proving to be difficult. It would've been one thing if he'd wanted to work with L, but the blatant refusal to do so spoke of something else entirely. He'd given L something the detective had previously been without, too fearful of garnering Beyond's attention if he attempted to obtain the document's himself. So what was it Light needed him to see then, what spured him to assist those he claimed he wouldn't?

The detective rocked forward on the balls of his feet, casting a searching gaze over the numerous papers decorating the floor of his unused bedroom. The carpet fiber, that's what Light had mentioned. L's mind had already noted four pieces of paper that mentioned the fiber, three were done in passing, the fourth was a detailed analysis of the fiber. Unfortunately the write up spoke of everything L had already deduced. The detective frowned around his lollipop and delicately plucked one of the four pages off the floor. Critically he scanned across the lines…

L's eyes widened to a diameter rivaling his tea saucer when he finally saw it. Light Yagami was a brilliant bastard.

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A/N: Thus endith thy chapterith. Now REVIEW!

…please?


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Yes, I we all are aware that Light is a brilliant bastard. It's good to see everyone's on the same page. ;)

As for Mr. Parenthesizes: HOW DARE YOU ROLL YOUR EYES AT THE GOD OF THE NEW WORLD! IT'S A GOOD THING YOU'RE ANONYMOUS! …JKJK XD

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note and thus am not making any money off of this.

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Chapter 10

Beyond deposited Mello onto the marble floor of the hotel lobby, swiftly untying the silk blindfold he had placed around the teenagers eyes an hour earlier. Mello himself was unsure of the size of the hotel B had holed them up in, the thin man having placed the blindfold over his head the moment they exited the ballroom. Beyond had then proceeded to carry the blonde bridal style through several halls and staircases for the better part of an hour. Thus, the leather clad youth found himself disoriented as the glinting, crystal chandeliers beckoned brightly towards him from the ceiling of the lobby, legs sore and protesting any and all movements Mello tried to make.

Blinking the haze away, Mello's eyes readjusted to themselves to the light before he carefully sat up, wincing at the tight pain just behind his kneecaps from where B's skeletal arm had been digging into his legs. Glancing around from his spot on the floor, Mello couldn't help but notice the wary glances the hotel lobby's population was sending their way, or more specifically, B's way. There were no other guests around that Mello could detect, only hotel staff. It seemed as if the hotel had been placed in a veritable lock down, compliments of Beyond Birthday no doubt.

A red, latex jacket was thrust into Mello's hands, while Beyond began wrapping a black, lace shawl around his shoulders and adjusting the red veil atop his head to hide his more distinguishing features, mainly his entire face. Mello scowled but put the vibrant, trench coat on, it's white, fluff trimmed hood tickling the back of his neck. A pair of sunglasses was handed off to Mello by one of the hotel butlers, the man visibly sweating over being in the presence of Beyond Birthday. Apparently the staff knew who Beyond was, and more importantly, they knew what the man was capable of.

"I don't even know where to start with these kinks of yours," Mello deadpanned, ignoring the affect B's presence had on everyone else for the moment.

"The best disguises are often the most outrageous." B paused, finger nail falling between red, painted lips. "Unless you're a ninja."

Another staff member came running towards them though a pair of service doors behind the reception counter. Fear was evident in the young consighers eyes, in fact, the woman was sweating goddamn bricks. Over her shoulder she was lugging a large, red suitcase, the kind musicians used to carry guitars and stage equipment. Mello doubted whether there was an actual guitar in the case, but he didn't question the luggage.

"Ah!' B clapped his hands delightedly, eyes wide and shinning as he took the case from the woman. "Thank you Lulu-Chan! Couldn't do anything without you!" He smiled widely and pinched the woman's cheek the way one would a two year old. The action sent a sob of tears leaking, unrefined, from the corner of the girl's eyes.

Stomach twisting, though he made no outward show of his discomfort, Mello reached over grabbed Beyond's hand away from the woman's face, dismissing the girl with a hasty nod. She didn't need to be told twice and turned on her heel, literally sprinting from the room. They were left alone in the hotel lobby after that, aside from one rather anxious looking doorman who was holding the front entrance to the establishment open, tremors visibly racking his body. The man's entire demeanor seemed to be yelling at Mello and B to hurry the hell up and leave. One glance around the deserted lobby and Mello was pretty confident the entire hotel staff was sharing the doorman's sentiment.

Mello's brows furrowed. What exactly had Beyond done to these people?

The murderer in question slung the guitar case over his shoulder and practically skipped towards the doorman. "Doesn't he just look so frightened?" B preened, casting a coy smile over his shoulder at Mello.

The blonde snorted, but looked over the doorman. He didn't know whether to reassure the man or tell him to run. There were no physical signs of abuse Mello could discern about the man's body, leaving the teen to assume that it was a hostage situation, but so far B had not seemed to have conducted any bodily harm on the hotel staff. The inflicted mental damage on the other hand, that was altogether something else.

"I made an example of their manager when they refused to give me what I required," B said honestly, wide eyes unblinking as he stared at the doorman like a demented toddler. "They listen to me now."

Dead guy in the manager's office, Mello nodded bleakly; therem at least, was his answer.

"Plus, there's about eight tons of cyclotrimethylene trinitramine spread throughout the premises, and I doubt any of these idiots are up to that particular treasure hunt."

The abrupt proclamation caused Mello's head to screech to a halt. "You loaded the hotel with eight tons of C4?"

The murderer's nose scrunched up, making his face twist unattractively, and B pushed through the door. "Of course not Little Dear, plasticizer and polyisobutylene smell bad."

Mello gaped openly as he followed the serial killer onto the streets. He didn't have the time to contemplate the hotel situation in depth though. B was letting him out on the streets, meaning he was giving Mello their exact location. Why Beyond would do that when he clearly wanted to keep the hotel layout a secret was beyond the blonde's mental capacities, at least for the moment. Perhaps B just didn't want Mello to play the hero and attempt to save the hotel staff.

Mello snorted disdainfully. No danger of that happening here, he thought bitterly. If there was one lesson Wammy's House didn't have room for in its vast curriculum, it was delusions of grandeur. Morality and heroics took the back burner when it came to lessons in reality. Logic and deduction were the main course, everything else cast off as a hindrance. And if B had anything to say about it, the hotel was going to go up in flames sometime in the near future, and there was little Mello would be able to do in order to stop it.

The blonde kicked a pebble on the sidewalk and glanced around. London, he'd been in the city enough times to recognize the street Beyond was currently traipsing about as Portland Place. Skipping several feet ahead of Mello, B seemed completely unconcerned with whether or not the boy was following him. Mello had to strain his neck at times to keep the eccentric red veil in his line of sight.

Glancing up Mello finally caught sight of the impressive stone structure Beyond had commandeered. The Langham, Europe's first grand hotel, extended nearly ten stories into the clouded English sky. Golden bricks and polished, grey shingles contrasted elegantly against each other as Mello's gape fell back, neatly, across his features. The building seemed to glow brightly, even though it's doors were locked, windows draw shut, and a darkness seemed the seep through the historic foundation's cracks, The Langham Hotel was still a character of elegance dotting the streets of London. And Beyond Birthday had it resting quaintly in the palm of his hand.

A jerk to his hood had Mello stumbling backwards, falling into a pair of thin, muscular arms. "They're remodeling a few of the suites," B said in answer to the unspoken inquiry. "Hence, closed for remodeling. Now stop dilly dallying Little Dear. There is work to be done!"

"Whatever you say Uzhas," Mello muttered, trudging obediently behind his captor. Already plans for escape were running rampant through Mello's mind now that the two of them had left the hotel.

He'd already been out maneuvered by Beyond physically, the man had a strength that betrayed his thin frame of a body. So there was little chance Mello would be able to overthrow B in any sort of physical confrontation. The knowledge did little for Mello's pride. He'd always been one of the strongest at Wammy's, both in mental fortitude and physical prowess. He'd been every bit the bully on the playground in his primary days, and even the elder kids had given him a wide birth as he walked down the halls. It wouldn't be so easy to intimidate an entity like Beyond Birthday though. The man was a monster unto himself.

Not that Mello was putting much stock in any plan to begin with, he'd had absolutely no idea what he'd been doing back in the ballroom when he'd given his little tease show, and Beyond had proved that quite effectively. But it gave him a starting point. The only way he could defeat Beyond was through his mind. He had to battle against the man mentally. Only after that, would their location come into play.

The red, veiled murderer stopped before a glowing shop, glancing up at the sign in indecipherable thought, and then he disappeared through the door. Following B inside, Mello was taken aback as a wave of pure sugar hit him across the face. It was a sweet shop. Jars, bags, and boxes filled with colorfully wrapped candies, preserves, and other gooey confections, lined each of the shop's walls while displays of artistically carved chocolate and candy dipped suckers decorated the tables. A kindly, older woman, looking to be in her mid-fifties, stood welcomingly behind a series of glass counters, each encasing an assortment of chocolate truffles. Mello had to gulp back the drool as he spied the tender morsels. There was only one other person in the shop aside from himself and B. But Beyond wasn't browsing the shelves like the other patron; instead he stood sullenly in front of the shop window, taxi cabs and pedestrians running through his gaze, unaware of his stalking presence.

"People think they're so normal, when really, they're more delusional than we are." The words were soft, audible only to Mello who had come to stand directly beside the male Lolita.

The blonde raised an eyebrow and looked through the glass at the city street. "How are we delusional?" He had long ago cast aside the rest of the world population as being madder than The Hatter at the world's most lavish tea party, but everyone else, those who possessed the gift of a brilliant mind; Mello wasn't so quick to claim their insanity. Save for Beyond of course.

Beyond spoke over the pad of his thumb. "We are taught to think we can save the world because we are better than everyone else."

It was a simple enough response, but Mello sensed there was more to its foundation. "We are better," he stated uncompromisingly. "Our intelligence makes it so."

"Does it really?"

Devil's advocate. Mello glowered, the bastard was testing him.

He could sense the ruby gaze on the side of his head, but he remained silent. The conversation was unanticipated. If B had wanted to throw Mello for a loop he had succeeded because now the blonde didn't know what the hell to think. Here he was, standing at the window of a candy shop, talking philosophically about people. Mello was pretty damn sure Beyond didn't _like_ people. So what was the point? Was Mello supposed to be questioning his own beliefs now, his faith in the human race, which didn't amount to more than an iota to begin with? Or was he supposed to defend his methodology?

"We, people like us," a latex clad arm extended outwards in an encompassing gesture, "we have the ability to process information the average individual doesn't even comprehend."

"And because of that ability we have the duty to ensure justice for the average masses because they themselves cannot comprehend it," Beyond finished neatly. "I went to Wammy's House too Little Dear." He smirked darkly at Mello.

"You don't agree," Mello shot back.

Beyond shrugged. "It's true. As I said, all of humanity is more delusional than we are. Best leave them to that happy bit of normalcy. My point is about those who hold only a handful of fantasies."

"Wammy's House," Mello supplied automatically.

B nodded and turned away from the window, dismissing the lives of everyone he thought beneath him. "They may not be as delusional, but the few delusions they maintain make them more dangerous in the long run."

"So what delusions do I posses?" Mello baited the murderer without thought, the challenging comment slipping from his mouth the way a lathered bar of soap slipped through wet hands. He'd need to work on containing himself if he truly valued his life. The look Beyond sent Mello seemed to say as much.

"You think it'd be great to be number one." B bent over the glass cabinets, carefully staring down the gourmet chocolates contained within. His finger pads splayed across the glass, like two spiders stretching their legs. Beyond looked as if he wanted nothing more than to fall through the crystal barrier, becoming one with the chocolate. "It's honestly not all it's chalked up to be. Hmmm… Darling would like the hazel nutty ones," he said idly.

Moving away from Beyond, Mello's eyes razed through the selection of chocolate bars lining one of the numerous shelves that comprised the shop. "It's not like you would know from experience." It had been nearly a week since he'd last seen a chocolate bar. B hadn't exactly been stocked with candy, or any type of sustenance for that matter. The scent of the delicious substance had been distracting him since he'd stepped through the shop door. Now he was met with an endless array of chocolate bars and there was little he could do against their magnetic pull. His hand moved on autopilot, grabbing a stack of six plain chocolate bars, the other picked up five with almonds. Beyond would be buying him chocolate, Mello decided right then, kidnapping murderer or not.

B's eyes widened as Mello dumped the goods on the counter adjacent to the register but didn't say anything otherwise. "I'd like eight of the hazelnut truffles and ten jars of strawberry jam sent over to the Langham Hotel."

The elderly woman behind the counter smiled, as if there was nothing strange about the order at all. "Still staying at the Langham Blush? Even during construction? You must be a great customer."

Mello raised a brow, apparently Beyond came here often. The woman had to be blind however to not see the monstrosity hidden behind the red mesh. Another individual with their eyes shut tight. Mello was starting to see what Beyond meant when he said the world was deluded. They were blind to the horror of the reality screaming in their face. Mello settled himself closely aside B, the need to yank that ridiculous, red veil out of Beyond's hair stronger than ever. It'd do well for the woman to see the type of people buying her jam.

B seemed to hear Mello's thoughts as if they'd been spoken aloud. A wry grin was sent in the blonde's direction as B picked up the tab. "Have the chocolate bars sent over too, my ward's been behaving himself wonderfully this past week!"

"Yes, you sounded so happy to have him coming over." The woman smiled kindly at Mello.

A charming grin flitted into Mello's eyes, but before he could say anything incriminating, Beyond had Mello's arm in a bruising grip, yanking him towards the door. "See you next week Mrs. Chocolate!" he called over his shoulder, menacing giggles following him out the door.

3B

It took them half an hour to reach the circular rode that comprised Park Crescent, though they didn't enter the park itself. Instead, Mello found himself sitting on the roof of the Central London County Courthouse, a white, marble structure across the street of the circular park. The vantage point allowed him to peer into a small playground just on the interior of the park's green lawn. A multitude of rainbow colored kids were at play within the confines of the park, jumping and shrieking in joy at the illusion of freedom their parents had granted them. That freedom would no doubt come to a close upon the hours end.

Beyond was currently treating the building's ledge as a balance beam and, had the man not handcuffed Mello to a stair rail, the blonde would have had no issues with pushing B over the edge. Not that it'd be enough to kill the ghost like apparition that was Beyond Birthday. The man was otherworldly in every way possible. But it would've made Mello feel better inside.

Beyond spun on the heel of his steel, toed combat boot and fixed Mello with a challenging stare. "Pick a child." The grinning maniac hopped from the ledge and unzipped the guitar case he'd been carrying with him the entire time. From within he produced a pair of binoculars and set them in Mello's hands, then pointed over to the playground.

Mello stared dumbly at the binoculars and then glanced at B uncertainly. Had he heard the man right?

"Pick a child," B reiterated, "from the play ground."

The binoculars were raised to Mello's eye's and he looked through, zooming in on the toddlers running heedlessly across a jungle gym of brightly colored, rusting metal. Mello's eyes widened a fraction as a thousand reasons for Beyond's request filtered through his mind, each more odious than the last. A chilling glare was turned on Beyond. "Absolutely not you perverted pedophile!"

B sighed. He'd been expecting the reaction given people's tendencies to jump to the wrong conclusions when it came to him. But this was something he needed Mello to do, so he decided for some patience. "What do you see Little Dear?" he asked, doing his best placate the hormonal teenager.

Mello would have none of it. "No!" The binoculars were chunked at B's veiled head. "I refuse to sit back and watch you murder some innocent child Beyond!"

B recoiled, the action as much a charade as his attire was. "Who said anything about killing a child?"

The blonde sneered. "You're a murderer B, why else would you be checking out kids?"

"Please don't call me B while we're in public," B said absently, looking through the binoculars and across the street. "It's Blushing Bride. Oh there! A perfect specimen!" Beyond held the lenses in front of Mello's face. "Look." Stubbornness was what Beyond found himself facing however as his hostage snapped his eyes shut tight. B's face twisted in annoyance and he aimed a firm kick at Mello's shin. "If you don't look through the binoculars I just may shoot down a happy family."

Mello's eyes shot open, intense green honing in on Beyond. "How are you going to shoot - " He paused, floored by the open guitar case laying heedlessly beside Beyond's feet.

There was no guitar inside. In place of a stringed instrument stood a matte black, RPA Rangemaster .50. Rapidly, Mello's mind conjured up everything he'd learned about the Tactical Rifle from his ballistics education course. The firearm was roughly 40 pounds, and rarely would such a weapon be found in the States. The gun hailed from a U.K. based weapons manufacturer. Despite the patriotism of having three of the weapons, none of the kids at Wammy's had been able to life the thing, let along shoot it. Beyond on the other hand handled the rifle like a champion sharp shooter. With calculated ease B set the five feet long gun atop a stand, the end of the barrel, covered by a suppressor, just barely protruding from the ledge of the building. The murderer loaded the weapon with a seamless 'chick' that sent a sickening crunch through Mello's stomach. It was bad enough to bear witness to Beyond in a corset dress and hear the man refer to himself as Blushing Bride. It was another thing entirely to watch the heinous man operate a tactical assault rifle while wearing the same outfit.

"I thought you weren't killing anybody," Mello breathed. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry.

"I'm not, you are," came the matter of fact response. The red veil flipped over Beyond's shoulder as a ruby eye winked into the scope. "Oh good, I can see the child better through this."

B stood and smiled at Mello, the expression a caricature of kindness. Taking the hint, Mello kneeled to the ground and positioned himself to look down the scope of the gun. A boy, seemingly about three years of age, was serenely playing in the grass, a multitude of die cast cars and trucks scattered around him. Sitting directly behind the small boy was a man, mid forties, with graying hair. The man wore a pair of neatly pressed jeans and a crisp, tan, dress shirt. Mello grit his teeth at the sight of the man, something about the entire picture seemed decidedly… _off. _

"What can you deduce about that child?" Beyond's breath brushed softly against Mello's ear lobe, causing the younger male to start in surprise. He hadn't felt Beyond invade his personal space, and part of him wondered when B had in fact managed to move so close. The other half of his mind was intently focused on the child sitting at the other end of the sniper rifle's scope.

"He's nervous."

The ruffle of Beyond's black hair against his cheek notified Mello that B was nodding. "Continue," the murderer purred.

"If he were relaxed he'd be playing with his toys, but he's not. I've seen infants at Wammy's act the same way, when elder kids picked on them," _when I picked on them_. "They'd just sit there dejectedly. He's been crying too," Mello inferred from the tear streaks patterned across the boy's pudgy cheeks.

Mello blinked before bringing his eye back to the gun's scope. There wasn't anything else he could gather from the child's appearance. It was the man sitting with the child that troubled Mello the most. His clothing was nice, expensive looking, too expensive for a parent who'd take their kid to the park. While all the other adults were adorned in jeans, weatchirts, and work out wear, the man sitting with the little boy stood out, to Mello at least. The clothes were crisp, well cared for, not at all the clothes of an individual who had a three year old child, unless there was a nanny. But if the kid had a nanny, why would his father go to the park with him in the middle of a work week? It didn't fit. The boy kept glancing over at the man, casting the childlike equivalent of a furtive glance at the man behind him. It was the intuition of a child that spoke of unfamiliarity, but didn't quite understand what was wrong with the situation. Mello, however, did. The boy didn't know that man.

"Who is that man?" Mello asked, no ounce of emotion present in his voice.

Beyond giggled in anticipation. "Name's don't really matter; all you need to know is what's in front of you."

Green eyes narrowed into the scope. "Damnit Uzhas! Who the fuck is that man and what the fuck is he doing to that little boy!"

The giggling continued, pouring right into Mello's ear like a burning syrup. "I think you know," B sang out jovially.

Mello's eyes narrowed further, because he did know. The man didn't know the kid, yet there he was playing with the boy's toys, whispering small nothings into the child's ear. And the boy, he didn't like it. The tears, the wide, roaming eyes each said as much. The boy was just waiting for someone to notice him, to notice something was wrong. But as always, the people were blind, blissfully unaware of the devil in their playground.

And Mello was sitting across the street with a gun pointed straight at the bastard's head, ready to take it off.

The teen blinked, inching slightly back from the rear grip of the gun.

"Tut tut," B hissed. "You're really going to do nothing?"

Mello closed his eyes, but nothing was said. He didn't trust himself in that moment. He didn't trust the hatred that had sparked to life in the coils of his intestinal system, burning up the length of his body and charring his throat.

"The child is being rapped," Beyond murmured seductively, lips grazing the lobe of Mello's ear. "Manipulated by something so much bigger than him. Are you going to allow it Little Dear?"

"I know what you want me to do and I won't" Mello grit, teeth painfully clenched in an attempt to keep the bile down.

"Won't you?"

Oh that voice was scintillating. It made things sound so easy, so apparent. Beyond made things look like they were black and white, and if not for the areas drenched in human blood Mello might have given in to him. "It's not my place to decide the fate of that man or that child, not like this. Not with a bullet to the head."

"The child doesn't deserve this Little Dear." The force of B's words sent a tremble of surprise down Mello's spine. He'd never expected to hear that tone of voice from B, at least not when applied to a common pedophile. It was almost…vengeful. "He's leaving with the child Little Dear…"

Mello focused back on the toddler. The man now had his hands wrapped around the kid's waste, clutching the boy to his chest possessively.

"You are here now Mello. You have the means. Down there, there is a man defiling a child, preying on innocence. That man is stealing a childhood. A child should be a child Mello, even if you didn't get to be." Beyond stood then, Mello could hear the heavy footfalls of B's boots against the cement of the roof and down the emergency stair way.

There was more to Beyond's statement then Mello wanted to contemplate at the moment. Some hidden meaning had been twisted about his captor's words and Mello was doing his damn hardest not to hear what had really been said to him. This was the game. Everything Beyond said was a part of the cardboard set up he had back in the ballroom. All the chess, checkers, clue, and candy land pieces, it all fell together messily into a game Mello was only starting to understand. The boy however, he had nothing to do with it.

Looking back through the targeting lens mounted atop the gun, Mello released a shaky breath. The man had the child strapped into a car already. Hundreds of people were passing him as he walked around the vehicle to the driver's side door and no one stopped him. He was going to get away. Unless…

Mello's arm extended, fingers wrapping delicately over the trigger. His other arm steadied the firearm, clutching it between his hands, stilling the quivering movements that had pervaded the leaded weapon previously. Mello licked his lips, the faint taste of chocolate tingling against the buds on his tongue.

Air flowed deeply into Mello's lungs. He closed his eyes for the briefest second and then snapped them open, immediately focusing the rifle's attention to the kidnapping bastard.

For the first time that week Mello's head was clear, and he took the shot.

3B

"_Talk to me Sweetie Jam…" The name came tauntingly off the murderer's lips. "I know this is what you crave. Titillating no?"_

_The darkness was encompassing as Light scuttled back, praying he'd be able to keep moving backwards, that he wouldn't hit a wall. Distance, he needed distance…._

"_Are you running away from me Sweetie Jam? That's not very nice."_

_The words came tauntingly at him from every angle, echoing around the blackout. No other noise pervaded the atmosphere save for Beyond Birthday's sing-song lilt and Light's own erratic breathing. He needed to get out. Keep moving backwards, he needed to get out. There was a door somewhere. He needed to get out._

_Abruptly the blackness erupted in laughter as the unforgiving sound of a lock being turned shot straight through Light's heart. Fear overrode his system, coherent thought dashing from his mind with its tail between its legs. There was no more room to breathe, no more escape. His back hit the wall._

"Nonononononono… Move you idiot. Get out… GET OUT!"

_The first step was the hardest, his sweat drenched body moving up the wall as heavy bricks of unadulterated panic took residence in the pit of his stomach. Slowly he began to inch himself along the wall. There was a window to his left he knew, only, he couldn't tell left from right at the moment. The adrenaline was drugging his system, demanding attention and punching rational thought square in the jaw. It was telling him to run._

_But he'd already been running, running for so long. His legs were ready to give out, ready to deny him the flight instinct beseeched of him. _

"_MARCO!" _

_The shout came from everywhere at once, as if there were multiple Beyonds scattered throughout the cell, all yelling to him at once. Light bit his lip, he could feel the chapped fleshed trembling as the taste of blood seeped through his teeth, his lip splitting open with the force of the bite. Eyes shut tightly, though the room was so black it made little difference, he tried to block out the sound of Beyond. The scurrying as B's fingernails slid across the cement floor, the quiet chuckling, and that damned VOICE!_

"_!"_

_Light shook his head, willing himself to keep moving._

"_Marco!"_

_Light's fingertips brushed against the cold, stone wall of the cubicle, his body shifting over while pleas of an escape route, anything, prevailed throughout his mind. _

"_Come on Sweetie Jam," Beyond's teasing torment persisted. "You know you want to play with me!"_

'Shut UP!' _Light thought violently, and then he felt the cool tickle against his cheek bones. There was a window, he could feel a slight draft running across his face, tendrils of the sweetest chill he'd ever felt. The glass panel was directly across from him, it just had to be. _

"_MARCOMARCOMARCOMARCO!"_

_Light's eyes snapped open._

_Dim light emitted from the blinds of the window. He needed to make it. With a grim sense of determination Light steeled himself to propel off the wall and into the window. With luck it would shatter and he'd be free, away from Beyond._

_He stuttered inches off the wall when a slim silloutett raised itself off the ground, out of the blackness, blockading the Light's final pane of salvation. The outline of spiked, tangled hair cocked itself to the side in a mannerism Light had become all too familiar with. _

"_That's not how you play the game Sweetie Jam."_

_Light's mouth fell open and he prayed for something to come out. A scream, a grunt, anything that might signal some wayward outsider that he was about to die. _

_Nononononono… The mantra of desperation lashed through Light's mind as if there was little else it could process. Nonononono… This wasn't happening. He'd had everything under control. Where did it go so _wrong?

_As if the black form could sense his thoughts, it answered, the words blowing crystals of ice over every joint in Light's body. "It never went wrong, this is all according to plan."_

_No, Light told himself. No it wasn't. And if that wasn't a lie he didn't know what was. It was that sick, twisted part of him that needed the experience, craved it. The part of him that, for some stupid, fucking, idiotic reason, thought he could take the chase. How wrong he had been. Now, now he was going to die._

_NO!_

_And Beyond stepped into the light, the window blinds drawing shadowy lines across his skeletal form. A grin was plastered across his face, eyes wide and burning in a lustful anticipation. The way he moved was too graceful to have been natural. It was demonic, predatory, and deliberately slow. Suddenly, Light was back against the wall, flesh up against it as if willing the molecules to absorb his being, save him from the murderous specter that wouldn't look away, wouldn't even blink._

"_You can't run from me Sweetie Jam, you don't want to." And B smiled serenely, looking down on Light's rapidly crumpling form. The steady smack, smack of the stiletto heel the murderer held slapping against the center of Beyond's palm moved with the demented individuals tranquil steps._

_Light knew Beyond, in cold, hard, facts he knew Beyond Birthday the way nobody else did, and that made the agonizing situation so much worse. He understood what B was capable of, what the man was going to do to him. And B kept moving towards him. _'God what was taking him so long,'_ Light's mind grated with a grimace. The interrogation cell wasn't even six feet wide, what the hall was taking him so long to reach him. Why was he drawing it out? Why couldn't he just get it fucking over with. Oh god…_

_And Light prayed. He prayed in a senseless thought of mumbling words, jumbled together into an incoherent wish to just survive this. A miracle, some spark of brilliance that would allow him to get out. He didn't even need to get out intact, he just wanted OUT!_

"_No no Sweetie Jam, you're lying to yourself. You want to stay here just as much as I do. Forever and ever, together together."_

'GET OUT!'_ His brain screamed, egging on the primal flight instinct, trying in vain to kick start the motor that would revive Light's motor functions. But he wasn't breathing, he couldn't possibly, his mind was too occupied with the terror moving towards him like a gelatinous sludge. Beyond was right. He did want this. He didn't want to leave. And yet… _

_The satin heel was casually tossed through the air, intricate red beading flashing against the modicum of light permeating the room. _

_There really was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere to run, and the darkness didn't hide him. Not from Beyond, the very definition of Light's darkness. He didn't move as the minutes passed, as B finally came to crouch before him. The signature frog position, Beyond's toes brushed gently against Light's own bare feet and red irises overtook terrified amber. _

'Fuck it all to hell.'_ Light thought, a strange sense of detachment falling across his body. _

_Light lunged. _

_Somehow Light's fist managed to pull itself back and land a hefty blow against Beyond's head. The murderer let out a strangled sound of surprise, though the punch was anything but strong. Light's arms were unsteady with trepidation, his adrenaline not strong enough to combat the raw emotion. But Light kept swinging, his body pummeling into Beyond's, the two of them falling to the floor in a tangles of limbs, sobs, and laughter. Beyond was laughing._

_Light scratched, the tears flowing freely from his eyes, obscuring his already compromised vision. He scratched at the haunting face looming over his head, Beyond's eyes literally millimeters from his own nose. Light didn't stop clawing at the visage of the monster grappling against his body. Beyond was stronger than he looked, especially for a man who'd been lounging in solitary confinement for the better part of several years. There had been so many, so many murderers unaccounted for, so many people missing, all falling across the trail Beyond Birthday had left behind, and Light was rapidly about to become the next breadcrumb leading towards the witch's oven. Beyond's spindling hands wrapped, unforgiving, around Light's wrists, pulling the smaller male towards Beyond's face. B's maverick smile brushed tauntingly against Light's own lips, and all the smaller male could do to protest the action was dig his fingernails into the psychopath's cheeks._

_It was unanticipated, the lip lock, unwelcome. It wasn't a kiss, but a dominating rebuttal against Light's struggle._

"_Shh, shh Sweetie Jam, we wanted this, remember?" B whispered, his own teeth clashing painfully against Lights._

_He was beyond thought at that point, excusing the pun. Everything he had worked for was unraveled into a tangled mess on the floor, B running blood covered fingertips across the yarn. Light was reeling, the blackness around him blurring, B's laughter augmenting in his ears and adding to the turmoil of the already discordant blood pumping through his veins. Beyond hauled Light's body off the floor by the wrists, the murderer refusing to slacken his grip as Light writhed against Beyond's chest. He could feel the bruises blossoming around his arms.__B slammed Light's back against the wall, finally relinquishing his hold on Light's arms to dig his fingers into Light's hips. Light winced as Beyond's forehead fell atop his shoulder, the killer nuzzling into the junction, rancid breath ringing into Light's ear. _

"_You play so marvelously Sweetie Jam, divine. But I think recess is over now…"_

_Light gulped back the fear that lodged itself into his throat, eyes widening in terrified anticipation. And before Light could vocalize any one of the petrified thoughts raging through his mind, everything went black… _

Light shot up, chest heaving in ragged breaths as oxygen flooded his lungs. It had been a dream, just a dream.

Mentally, Light cursed himself as he sat upright, letting the warm sheets pool around his waist. The thin silk clung to the contours of his bare chest, adhered by sweat while black, silk pants hung low on his hips, crumpled around his legs from the tossing and turning. His forehead fell into his hands and Light cursed again. It had been years since he'd last had a dream about Beyond.

"I have nightmare's too you know," the toneless voice interrupted Light's thoughts and once more he was jolted upwards in surprise.

"_L!" _Light hissed through gritted teeth, the detective's hunched form and ghostly pallor sitting on the side of his bed. He looked so much like Beyond at that moment Light was momentarily at a loss; the aftertaste of terror still polluting his mouth. L's uncanny presence did little to relieve the taste. If it hadn't been for the light coming from the bathroom Light would have mistaken the detective for Beyond. Funny… Light didn't remember leaving his bathroom light on.

"How long have you been here!" Light demanded, scandalized as the situation finally caught up to him. "Hell, how did you find me? No, how did you get in here?"

L's expression didn't change. "I'm a detective Mr. Yagami, it would be rather pitiable if I couldn't locate you within twenty four hours of our first meeting."

Ah, that was a jab at Light wasn't it?

The detective leaned forward, eyes roaming Light's body critically. The younger man shifted in discomfort, the blank gaze disorienting given its current trajectory across his exposed body.

"You've nice musculature," L commented offhandedly. "That of a tennis player's in fact, do you play?

Light sighed, he refused to answer that question. Unconsciously, he hiked the sheet around him in an attempt to form a makeshift barrier between himself and the individual his nightmare was based off of. "What are you doing here?" As he spoke he reached over to the other side of the bed, picking a shirt off the floor and pulling it over his head.

A lollipop seemed to materialize out of nowhere and found its way into L's mouth. "Is Light perhaps ashamed of something? In which case, I've been observing you for two hours and can assure you that you have nothing to be ashamed of."

Light blinked, slightly horrified. "You've been here for two HOURS!"

"I came to discuss the details of your earlier suggestion."

A pointed silence hung in the air between the two gifted minds, each appraising the other. Though there was nothing predatory in either of their gazes, a challenge was laid out on the table, sacrificial lamb ready for the slaughter. L rested his chin on his knees, lollipop stick protruding from his lips while a thin glaze of stickiness covered his small grin. The Yagami boy was cunning, in a rather deplorable way. Already L got the sense that Light Yagami enjoyed showing off, taunting the target of whatever ploy he was concocting. The detective would be the first to declare that particular similarity between the two of them, but it didn't mean he was incredibly fond of being on the receiving end of such tactics. Hence the late night visit. L'd never said he wasn't a vindictive fiend.

Light was the one to break the stare, fingertips meeting the bridge of his nose, a faint reproving glare transmitting towards L. "It's too early for this," was the weary response. Without warning Light moved off the bed, sheets falling gracefully onto the floor as he lithely moved towards the door. If L wanted to talk they'd do it with coffee, lots of coffee.

Light descended the spiral stair into the living room, the faint smell of cappuccino wafting into his nostrils, causing him to pause and stare. Watari was in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist while he bustled about a multitude of kitchen appliances Light was fairly certain had not been there yesterday. Shaking his head, strands of auburn hair fell across his eyes. It was way too early for this. L shuffled after him towards the marble island set in the center of the kitchen and craned his neck over Light's shoulder to better view Watari's preparations. The elderly gentleman was frying something, while an espresso machine whizzed steadily on the far side of the counter top. Flour and dough were rolled out on the rest of the marble counter, dough cut into neat little squares. Atop the stove was a large tub of bubbling oil, the grease fumes stinging Light's eyes sharply.

"I hope you don't mind terribly, Mr. Yagami." Wrinkled hands pinched two pieces of dough together and delicately dropped them into the scalding liquid. The sizzle of frying dough pervaded the air with an overwhelming perfume of sweetness. "L wished to talk to you as soon as possible, I figured I'd make you breakfast in apology for the early hour."

'_Three in the morning is not an early hour,'_ Light thought dully, his mind not fully firing on all cylinders, the grogginess of oh-dark-thirty acting a sludge clogging his mind, _'it's a crime.'_ He said nothing though; sitting on one of the bar stools surrounding the kitchen island. A latte was set in front of him and immediately the steaming cup was brought to his lips, the caffeine jolting his synapses into play.

"So, what may I help you with L?" The words were muffled by the rim of the coffee cup.

"You wish to assist with the capture of Beyond Birthday," L said candidly, cutting right to the bone. A sheet of paper was set on the table, a series of words circled, lining the right edge of the document.

Setting the cup down, Light read through, immediately recognizing the paper as belonging to the case file he'd brought to L's hotel the other day. In fact, it had been less than twelve hours ago. A grumble came from Light's mouth but he said nothing else. L took it as a sign to continue.

"I must admit, you're creative, and bold. Not many would have the audacity to tamper with the evidence of a case I'm working on, especially when they're aware it's _my case_."

The stress on the last two words did not go unnoticed by Light, but he was too tired to care. Possessive, L was possessive of this particular case. It only strengthened the notion, in Light's mind, that L knew Beyond Birthday from before the Los Angeles Murder Case. The information was filed away, and Light turned to watch as an ungodly amount of powdered sugar was dropped atop the fried dough. The confection Watari had been cooking seemed more akin to a clogged artery than breakfast.

Watari placed a platter of beignets, where the ratio of fried dough to powdered sugar was abhorrent, atop the marble in front of Light and L. To the auburn haired man, the platter looked more like a miniature ski slope than actual, edible food.

L reached over and plucked the top pieces of dough from the plate, sugar falling off across the marble in clumps. "You printed that fourth sheet in a different ink, I trust that was done purposefully, in order to catch my attention. Not to mention, I found an entire page about a single carpet fiber to be rather farfetched for a British police force, forensics team to compile, unless they've recently made headway in hiring capable detectives. But the information was precisely what I, myself, deduced upon observing the fiber. However, I doubt any average individual would've been able to do the same."

Light raised his eyebrows at the blatant arrogance, a sense of kinship taking hold at the comment.

"The page also deviated from the original briefing, where the fiber had only been mentioned in passing, pegged as important but nothing too crucial. It didn't make sense for the police to spend so much time documenting it. Thus, I figured you'd written the page for me and me only." The beignet was swallowed whole and Light had to fight back the urge to vomit. "Do you know the forensics team has accommodating labs," L recited the words circled down the right side of the page. "Not quite grammatically correct, but I understand you had very little to work with."

An internal glare was directed at the panda-frog shoveling fried dough into his mouth, but Light withheld the scathing comment and convinced himself he was only grouchy due to the ungodly hour of the morning. "So you understand?" he inquired lightly, sipping the smooth coffee with his eyes still trained on L.

"You're insulting me," was the bitter response.

Light scoffed. "Hardly, merely implying that, although you are an accomplished detective, there is little you can do to apprehend Beyond without police cooperation. Actually, I'd say this is exactly the scenario B wanted to force you into. You're prideful, B knows that. You wouldn't want the public to discover that he'd made a jail break, it'd be a black mark on your face, though you already have two lovely ones beneath your eyes." Nimble fingers drummed casually against the coffee cup and L pouted at the quip. "However, the only way to ensure the public's ignorance is to not work with the police, or any agency for that matter."

"Which is where you come in," L picked up. "You'd have access to police files and records, both as a witness and though hacking, which is how I assumed you gathered the intel the file contained. It would also make sense in Beyond's eyes, you'd want to capture him, given your extensive research on the man." L couldn't help the bitter undertone polluting that statement and Light wasn't one to let it go unchecked.

"The interviews were most enlightening." A flawless finger dipped into the powdered sugar L had left behind and was quickly licked off. "The man is brilliant in a macabre way. It was difficult to understand fully how his mind worked, even now I have issues with his thought process. You would agree?" he turned the question towards L.

L bobbed his head up and down, back to sucking on his lollipop now that all the fried dough had been consumed. "I can hardly fathom some of the things he's done. But what makes you think he wouldn't trace you back to me? Understand, I will not put my wards in unnecessary danger, at least more than they're already in."

"You don't trust me," Light concluded.

"B wants you to work for me. That alone raises suspicion," L affirmed.

Light nodded in thought. "I'd come to the same conclusion. But either way I see it, you need a man on the street. Unless you know B's ultimate goal here."

"I'm afraid I do not," L admitted, a certain caginess written in his brow. "There are multiple ends Beyond could wish to head towards. What puzzles me most is the kidnapping of one of my other wards." L watched Light, gauging his reaction to the declaration. The boy seemed unaffected with the news.

"It's never been his MO to kidnap people. But this individual's relation to you would explain a few things."

"There is an 18% probability that you're working with Beyond."

Light blinked in disbelief. "I beg your pardon."

"I'm afraid I don't favor reiteration," L deadpanned. "But it's true. Beyond has a way of getting into people's heads. He's a walking blood bourn pathogen, once he makes that cut into you, you can't turn away."

"My family has been targeted by him!" Light snapped. "That alone should show you - "

"All it shows me is that you have a family, and may be willing to sacrifice them in order to do what B wants you to," L interrupted smoothly, voice cutting through Light's words like a shard of glass on skin. "You said it yourself; B wants you to work with me."

An aggravated sigh escaped Lights throat. He felt like bashing his head into the marble, leaving nothing but a bloody mess of brains and blood to wash the powdered sugar away with. L's response was predictable and exasperating. Light could read it in the way the detective was licking at his candy, wide eyed stare unblinking with a spark of inquisitiveness. L wanted to know why B felt the need to include Light in what L no doubt saw his and B's game. Light was merely a pawn, something thrown in to spice up the pot. But L didn't think it was necessary, Beyond was just toying with human lives, and L found it deplorable. Unfortunately, for Light at least, L really wanted to know why Beyond had chosen him. If only the detective had an imagination, Light deliberated crossly.

"You want to know why Beyond wants me, don't deny it." Light didn't have the energy to add a sharp expression to the statement, the only thing he wanted was for L to get the hell out of his hotel room and let him go back to sleep. Watari had just about finished cleaning the kitchen anyway. "At this point I may retract my suggestion."

L blinked and plucked the bright, blue sucker from his mouth. "Why?"

"Because you have no degree of proper manners and its three thirty in the morning."

L lifted his thumb to his mouth and began torturing the nail with his teeth. "…that is not a proper reason to renege on our agreement."

"Then how about this." Light closed his eyes and collected the already dwindling amount of patience he had for L. "You want me to work for you, because if I do the investigation will most likely move forward, which my earlier contribution no doubt proved to you. There is only so much information you can glean by observing from an armchair with mediocre detectives doing your leg work. But at the same time, if I truly am working with Beyond, then not only will you have a link to him, but there's also the chance that I may slip up and incriminate myself, and by extension, Beyond Birthday. You're saying one thing and playing a game to see if I can discern your true intentions. I don't like it."

"Is that not exactly what you did to me earlier?" L questioned innocently.

Damn.

"Okay, then tell me about this agreement before I kick you out on your ass!" Light grit. Watari must have been psychic because another cup of coffee was placed before Light, the empty mug whisked away to the dishwasher.

"You'd work for me." L stated blandly. "You'd be under my employment, hacking into the British Police's database and retrieving any data you see relevant to the case for me. You'll also be sent to crime scenes, use your FBI connections however you want to accomplish that, just do it. The teenagers you saw at the hotel, they will not know about this. I refuse to tell them. As long as you act that part, you may interact with them as you please given that I will be sending them to the crime scenes as well."

Light nodded along as L listed off details. It was what he'd already figured would happen, minus the teens, that could prove to be an issue. "If the _children_," Light placed a particular emphasis on the word, "are to accompany me, though not outwardly, you may want to rethink their disguises."

Pale lips twisted in a grimace. "Yes," L agreed. "You're probably right about that. I'll take care of it." L sent a meaningful look at Watari and the butler nodded accordingly. Apparently the two shared a telepathic link. "Now, I trust you understand the importance that Beyond never know you are working for me?"

"Of course I understand," Light retorted levelly. "It was my original premise after all."

L's smirked mirrored Light's own at that moment, and he casually hopped down from the bar stool. "Then I believe we have an agreement Mr. Yagami. Watari will leave you with a phone and a laptop through which you may contact me and I you, never turn either one off, and always have the cell on your person."

The butler handed a black laptop case to Light, who opened it and removed the portable computer as well as a sleek, touch screen mobile phone. There was no brand name on either.

Slouching steps shuffled across the wooden floor, L taking his leave with Watari in tow. "Oh," L spun around suddenly, a thought abruptly entering his mind. "I find your future brother in law's career quite intriguing," he remarked passively.

"I came to you. You don't need to blackmail me into working with you," Light said, waving the thinly veiled threat off as if it were nothing more than a stray fly buzzing around his head.

"It's not blackmail, just an insurance policy.

3B

"_Hey Sweetie Jam, time to wake up now."_

_Light groaned, Doctor Kishli's voice clanging against his brain like a cheese grader. Slowly, Lights eye lids fluttered before fully opening._

"_So tell me Light, was that as educational an experience as you thought it would be?" the red head grounded out, her arms folded irately over her chest. _

"_Even more so actually," Light admitted, carefully sitting up. "Where am I?"_

"_Medical ward," Kishli snapped. "Birthday did quite a number on you my dear. And the rest of the premises I might add."_

_Light winced, knowing exactly the type of damage Beyond had inflicted, and by addition, Light had. It really was his fautl, he'd been the one with the oh so brilliant idea of letting Beyond out of his cell. _

"_I take it he's gone then?" Light asked, looking up at the older Doctor._

"_Actually no," she admitted. "He locked himself back in his cell." _

_Light glanced at her quizzically. "He willingly went back into his cell?"_

_Kishli scoffed as if Light had just said something stupid, which in retrospect, Light supposed he had. "Of course not," the woman laughed bitterly, long fingernails digging into Light's skin as sheremoved the bloodied bandages from his neck, intent on cleaning and redressing the wound. "He asked for something in exchange for his cooperation."_

"_What?" Light winced as the alcohol met the open, bloodied flesh on the side of his neck._

"_You." _

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A/N: QUESTION, before you guys all go to review, as I know you will. ;)

I've mentioned before that I'm a cosplayer, and my recent endeavor had been Blushing Bride. Yeah, crossdressing, Lolita Beyond. Anyway, I was wondering if any of you guys would be interested in seeing that? Because if so, I'd put more effort into a photo shoot than I normally do.

As always, thank you for reading! Hope all is well!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I scraped the original chapter and started all over, thus the time it took to post this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

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Chapter 11

He gently messaged her scalp. Warm water was rushing over his hands as the chemicals ran off his skin and through the deep, brown locks of hair. Tangles collected at the end of his finger tips, locks of hair looping through his fingers in a mass of chemically saturated curls.

He hadn't been expecting things to move this fast, but it didn't matter. There was never a wrong or right time to commit murder as far as he was concerned.

When the original hair color had bled away, permanently damaged by bleach, he turned faucet off and picked up a towel. Deciding not to dry the woman's hair, he mopped the moisture from his own hands. He was rather partial to the look of drenched hair, it always made things look glossy and clean. Quite the contrast to the dirty, purple bruises riddled across the woman's tan flesh. It was striking; made him regret not bringing a camera.

The hair complete, he gently lopped a thick rope around the woman's slim neck. The pulley system he'd run the noose through extended in a spider web of rope and nails across the ceiling of the cramped warehouse. Letting the dead body flop to the floor, lifelessly staring across the room with a milky, accusatory glare, he sauntered to the other end of the room and gave the rope a sharp tug. Suddenly, the body was hoisted into the air like a broken marionette, slowly turning in circles. The corpse was dancing for him, spinning in lazy circles like a broken dradle.

Yes, he thought, lips quirking upwards in accomplishment, a camera would've been a good idea.

3B

"_You requested my presence?" Light stalked stiffly into the room, taking his customary seat. Beyond sat in the steel chair bolted to the floor across from him, a crisp straightjacket binding the murderer's arms to his chest. The killer rocked unsteadily, swaying side to side like an erratic grandfather clock. The image sent perturbed chills across Light's skin. _

_Three panes of bullet proof glass sat between the two of them. On either side of the glass sat a steel desk, permanently secured to the floor. Staring through the glass Light couldn't help but feel it was like looking into a mirror. Everything on the other side of the glass was a reflection of its counterpart, two sides of the same coin, utterly symmetrical. Only, the mirror didn't reflect Light's visage, instead it showed Beyond. _

_B smiled at Light, leaning forward to rest his elbows against the table, trying to get as close to Light as the barriers between them would possibly allow. A gentle rustling of chains alerted Light to the collar wrapped around Beyond's neck, restraining the man from moving out of his chair._

_Beyond's eyes twinkled as he caught the stare. "Do you like it?" he asked derisively. "The doctors are such dirty people, all that sexually repressed energy. It's not good for their medical practices."_

_Light couldn't bring himself to comment on Beyond's troubled thoughts. It was all an act anyway. He'd had an inkling upon his first meeting with Beyond that B was the furthest thing from insane, now he knew it was true. Beyond Birthday was saner than any human being Light had met before, and it was perhaps that which made him the most dangerous human alive. Beyond saw the big picture, he knew the end to the story and he'd memorized everyone else's lines in the drama. The world didn't exist in black and white to B, as it did to so many other people, it wasn't even gray. Beyond saw things in color, and compared to B, Light couldn't help but think everyone else was a dog. _

"_You're thinking too hard Sweetie Jam," B sung out softly, crimson eye's boring into Light's amber orbs. And suddenly, Light felt more vulnerable than he had the evening before._

_Light straightened, folding his hands uneasily across the desk and letting his bangs fall messily over his face. It was useless to hide the emotion, turmoil, and more importantly, the injuries, from Beyond. Light simpered as Beyond's eyes widened joyfully at the appearance of Light's gauze wrapped arms, but he reined in the discomfort._

"_I'm thinking about you."_

_B blinked, that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "Do I really require that much thought?"_

_Light grimaced, the eagerness poisoning Beyond's voice spurring his body's adrenaline factory to life. He hated himself for being this on edge around Beyond now. But the man _had _tried to kill him. "Well after you tried to maim me last night I figured some heavy reassessment was in order."_

"_This __tête-à-tête is not about my desire to skin you with a shoe," B stated blankly._

"_It's not? Then why did you call me here Beyond, because honestly, I really don't want to talk to you today. Kishli has me on prescription painkillers and they make me irritable."_

_B pouted, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk with too many nuts. "You didn't like my game."_

"_You tried to kill me with a stiletto," Light returned conversationally. "Where the hell did you even get one of those?"_

"_Bob had one in his locker, as well as a sequined bra. I have it here," B tilted his head towards the mound of wrapped toilet paper he'd mummified with athletic tape. "I thought it would look good on you! Though I apologize for the lousy wrapping. I couldn't find any Christmas paper."_

"_You tried to kill me," Light reiterated. "And it's the middle of august, no one has Christmas paper."_

_Beyond sighed, a look of disappointment cascading across his face. Light just wasn't getting it. "We are animals Sweetie Jam, you and I more so than others. It is our nature, when faced with things of beauty, to conquer and eat them. It is unfortunate however that you proved to be the stronger beast than myself." _

_A wolfish grin splayed across Beyond's face, leaving Light with no response other than a deep seeded feeling of disgust. Yet, he was incredibly proud of himself, proud that he'd beaten Beyond, outsmarted the only individual he had ever looked upon as an equal. At least in terms of mental fortitude, in every other category there was no comparing Light to Beyond or Beyond to Light. But Light had won, he just wasn't sure he wanted the prize._

"_You're thinking again Sweetie Jam…"_

_Light glanced up at Beyond, amber eyes petrifying in their hardness. "Would you like me to stop thinking?"_

_B chuckled, jolting his head back and forth so his overgrown hair fell all over his face and splayed across his shoulders. "No no, that would be a tragedy, if you ever stopped thinking." _

"_Then what would you have me think about Beyond?" Light asked, falling into their regular pattern of inquiry. It'd only been three days since he'd first met Beyond, now he couldn't help but think he'd gotten a little too close to the serial killer. There was an attachment somewhere between the two of them. The question was, who was attached to who?_

_B tilted his and glared at the ceiling. "You shouldn't think about me." _

_Light's eye brows rose, startled with the response. Light had expected Beyond would be pleased to know Light spent the majority of his time obsessing over him. "But that's why I'm here Beyond, to think and discus you."_

"_But I'm not the important one!" the murder snapped meaningfully, wiggling in his chair with the need to flail about. "Detective is important."_

_Light leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing to slits. "What does L have to do with anything?"_

_A smile of yellowing teeth and burning red eyes leaned over the desk on the opposite side of the glass, leering delightedly at Light. "_Everything_." _

Light rolled over with a groan. L had left two hours ago, though it had only been half an hour ago that Light had been able to fall back asleep. Mentally, he cursed L for the thousandth time that night.

It wasn't an entirely logical train of thought, but Light was quite comfortably able to blame L for his recent insomnia. Without L, there would have been no Beyond Birthday, and thus, Light wouldn't be waking up at unholy hours of the night in a cold sweat. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd begun reliving his interviews with Beyond. It had been sometime before he'd left San Francisco for London that the dreams had begun. At the very least, the dreams only had him putting off sleep and the psychological havoc they were wrecking on his mind was minimal. Light couldn't help but be thankful his sanity remained unthreatened.

He stretched his arms over his head, languidly rising from the thick mattress and leaving a trail of sheets in his wake as he made for the living room. Coffee was the main focus of his mind as he mentally comprised a list of everything he'd need to do that day. Sayu was intent on having brunch with him that day, why the girl was so obsessed with fusing Breakfast and Lunch into one giant unhealthy meal Light had no idea, but he aimed to please.

The young profiler paused suddenly, turning back to face the door to the bathroom. It was shut, and he was pretty sure he hadn't left it that way. Quizzically he appraised the door before shrugging it off. It was a door, nothing threatening about it. And then he heard it. Humming, a joyful, rapid beat of humming was filling the bedroom, slithering into the bedroom through the small crack between the bathroom door and the floor. Someone was inside, humming. The voice was familiar too.

"Goddamnit L," Light grit his teeth together, stomping over to the door. "Get out of my bathroom!" he shouted, rapping his knuckles against the door heatedly. "Why the hell are you even still here?"

He'd only met the detective a few days ago and already the man was fraying Light's patience. At this rate Light's fuse was withering away faster than was healthy. L was about to have a rather volatile explosion on his hands.

The familiar tenor augmented in Light's ears, gaining in volume and speed. It was practically gleeful now, and nauseatingly so. That was, until it stopped.

Light knocked against the door again. "L?" Fingers falling over the brass handle, he pressed his body against the wood and listened through the door for a sound. There was nothing.

With an awkward grimace Light turned the knob and pushed the door open. It swung inward, revealing a darkened space of porcelain. The empty bath glistened against the morning's sunrise, the frosted window splaying the orange light awkwardly across the cold surface. The fluffy white towels hung undisturbed in the soft glow, opposite the sink, its gilded handles sparkling welcomingly. The room was empty. Slowly Light crept into the spacious lavatory, his bare feet padding softly against the icy marble flooring. Steadily his gaze swept across the room, looking for the source of the sound. He was sure it had been L's voice.

Light came to stand right in front of the tub. With a perplexing glance he inspected the interior of the bath but found nothing, not even a drop of water. And then a new sound filled the clean room.

Scraping. The sound was as irritating as a diamond running along a chalk board. Reluctantly, Light turned away from the bath tub to face the mirror hanging above the sink. Light's hand extended, shaking towards the light switch with the full intent of illuminating the bathroom, but that meant facing the mirror. He knew what he'd see when he stared into the glass. He'd see himself staring back, unsure and more than a little disturbed. But he'd see himself.

With a slight gulp Light rested his hand against the light switch and faced his reflection. But his reflection wasn't there.

Scarred skin, molten from fire and skin grafts smiled serenely from the other side of the glass. Red eyes blinked slowly and leaned forward, a pale forehead resting against the crystal barrier. Think lips pursed together and a melodic sound vibrated from behind them, filling the bathroom and wrapping itself around Light's own throat.

"B…" Light breathed, staring in unveiled terror at the apparition sitting before him.

Beyond's smile grew. "Little piggy, little piggy, let me come in…"

Light didn't pause to think, he wasn't even sure he had given way to thought. Swiftly he whipped around and sprinted from the bathroom right as an explosion of glass erupted behind him. And then he was eating the floor, Beyond's weight pressing heavily atop his back while thin fingers probed against Light's cheek and neck. A tongue flickered out from B's lips and tasted the flesh of Light's neck. A happy little hum filtered into Light's ear. "Yummy little piggy…"

3B

Light sat up, his heart hammering against his rib cage, praying for a heart attack so the adrenaline of fear would cease its aggravation on the organ.

Scrambling from the sheets Light thundered towards the bathroom door. Wrenching the offensive piece of solid wood open Light stared into the bathroom. It was empty, save for the gentle glow of morning. With a heavy scowl Light faced the mirror head on. Anger, frustration, and a slick layer of sweat stared back at him. With a heavy breath Light stared back into his own haggard expression.

So much for his sanity.

3B

Mello sat despondently beside a growing pile of chocolate wrappers. The miniature mountain had been steadily gaining in elevation for the better part of an hour. Melted chocolate stained his fingers as he absently fumbled with the chain B had fastidiously wrapped around his wrist and torso, binding him to the marble floor of the ballroom. The blonde's eyes fell closed, blocking out the harsh glow of the golden ceiling and leaving him to focus, undistracted, on his thoughts. Doing so may or may not have been a productive idea, but Mello needed to gain some perspective. He had just committed murder after all.

Murder. The word ran down the length of his throat like engine sludge, polluting and clinging to every winding intestine that spanned beneath Mello's skin. He'd killed someone. There was one less human being on the planet because he'd taken events into his own, adolescent hands. Granted, the corpse now occupying some city morgue belonged to a child abductor. Growing up in an orphanage, Mello's opinion of vial beings like rapist and pedophiles placed them far below history's most noxious tyrants. Was it justice though? Unconventional, if not harsh, the notion concerned Mello more than the thought of committing murder. It was vigilantism in its finest form, staking out an infraction of the justice system and personally dealing the hand. And it was exactly what L did. He tracked criminals down and brought them to justice by his own terms.

_But he didn't kill them._ The rational side of Mello whispered into his mind, knowing it wouldn't need to shout to be heard. L gave the death penalty when the system called for it, yes, sometimes he even pushed for it. But there were moments when L didn't, instead he'd do the unthinkable. He gave criminals second chances. Such was the reason for Beyond Birthday's continued existence. Though that may not have been the best example of a second chance, Mello thought, his face contorting at the chain chafing against his wrist. In Mello's opinion, which the boy knew was decidedly biased, he was the victim after all, Beyond Birthday hadn't deserved a second chance. He hadn't deserved to be left alive. There were some people in the world that had abused their right to live. Beyond Birthday was the ruler of those people and the pedophile Mello had gunned down was a court jester. Now, Mello supposed he had joined their blood thirsty ranks.

He liked to think he'd made the decision on his own, without any suggestive words from Beyond. It was a happy island named denial that Mello was currently gorging himself with chocolate on. And sadly it was taking on some heavy flood waters. It would've been easier to just place all the blame on Beyond, but the deranged, cross-dressing killer hadn't been the one who pulled to pull the fucking trigger. That had been all Mello and his cute little finger.

Another piece of chocolate broke off onto Mello's tongue, slowly melting in his mouth. Chocolate was something Mello understood, 78% pure cocoa, and the rest was just smooth cream and sugar. Chocolate was simple. Figuring out why he'd murdered a child rapist, that was more confusing than when Mello had first underwent puberty.

He was dejected. He'd killed someone and he honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

Fuck the world.

It was too much, and he didn't have enough chocolate to think through it all. B needed to get him more. Slowly opening his eyes Mello glanced over at where the man sat, unresponsively in front of his game board. Mello was pretty sure he'd been there all night. The two of them had returned from the park, after which Beyond had immediately set out and didn't return until well into the night, waking Mello from his uncomfortable slumber on the couch. The murderer had then proceeded to crouch atop a stool in front of his game board, intently studying the amalgamation of game pieces like they were holding his best jar of jam hostage.

"GGRAHHHHHH!"

Mello jumped, his neck cracking as he whipped to stare at Beyond. The murderer was flailing about on the floor, limbs all wiggling around in the air. He reminded Mello of a dying beetle, only the man was skinner than a spider. B flopped over, looking across the floor at Mello, a coy grin on his face.

"Did you see the paper today?"

Mello blinked. "I was unaware we got the paper."

B sat up, nodding happily. "I had the hotel staff send out for a paperboy, jacked all twenty eight of his newspapers so we'd have extra copies!"

A subtle feeling of unease washed over Mello as Beyond wriggled across the floor over to him, a worn newspaper sticking out of the back of his jeans. "And what did you do to the paperboy?"

B paused, a slender finger resting against his lips in thought. "I think he'll live… seemed like a tough kid. Anyway, listen to this! Mysterious sniper shoots serial molester. Isn't that a stunning headline?"

Mello took the paper from Beyond, eyes scanning over the large, front page picture of the park they'd visited the other day. Adjacent to the photo was an unattractive mug shot of the man he'd shot, and beneath that was the shy smile of a little boy, thumb firmly lodged in his petite mouth.

Mello's last piece of chocolate disappeared into his mouth. "I killed someone B."

Beyond snatched the paper back from the teen, pouting minutely at Mello's lack on enthusiasm. "So? Loads of people have done that! Consider it an initiation rite into the folds of humanity," he waved the sentiment off, casually lifting himself from the floor to go back and stand before his board game.

Mello stood, but with the chains binding him to the floor it was about all he could do. "That was a highly sensitive piece of weaponry," the boy said levelly. "What would have happened if I didn't know how to use the damn thing?"

"You would've shot your eye out," The murderer replied flippantly. "But you did know how to use it. Ever wonder why?"

Mello frowned as the question jammed itself in his ears with all the grace of a semi-truck. "Wammy's has a ballistics course. You're an Alumni, sort of, you should know that."

"Yes, but why ballistics? Why advanced weaponry? As a kid do you really need to know how to identify the world's one hundred deadliest poisons by sent, aesthetic, and their physical effects on the victim?"

"You certainly seemed to benefit from it," Mello said dryly, falling back on the floor, legs crossed.

B grinned, a reminiscing smile capturing his eyes as he bit his lip. "That earned you a gold star Little Dear! Not many have been able to recognize that as my work. In fact, only one other person did."

Mello pursed his lips, but conceded the point to Beyond. Experimental poison didn't exactly fit with B's usual modus operandi, so it wasn't that surprising no one else had recognized that small string of murders as the work of the LABB killer. "L?"

"No." B gently flicked a black, chess piece over, causing it to tumble across the board, skidding to a halt right in front of a red candyland piece. "He was," B pointed to the chess piece he'd knocked over.

"And who is _he_ exactly?"

The murderer's attention moved abruptly away from the board game and onto the blonde teenager, eyes widening as some previously unseen realization materialized before him. "I have to go."

Mello watched, his eyebrows rising as Beyond flew from the room, the doors leading out of the ballroom slamming shut with the echoing click of several locks falling into place. The teen sighed in irritation, falling back on the floor, spread eagled, the ceiling once more the only thing to keep him company.

3B

Matt gingerly shuffled through the hallway from his bedroom. The light filtering of intellectual conversation and what smelled like cherry pie pulling him out of bed by the ear. Sleep was a god given right and waking up at six in the morning was a heinous infraction of that right. Unfortunately, L didn't seem to have a religion, or a sleeping pattern for that matter. For Matt this equated to a rather unpleasant morning.

"Good morning Matt," the detective said from his swivel chair, not even bothering to turn around and look the boy in the face as he greeted him.

"Meh," Matt replied, stiffly running a hand through his brightly colored hair. He'd gotten dressed, they should be proud of him for that. Conversation this early however, that wasn't going to be happening so soon.

Near glanced up as Matt fell gracelessly onto the couch, swiping a biscuit from the tray of sweets occupying the center of the room. "Did you not sleep well?" the white haired kid asked cordially over the roof of the large, wooden dollhouse he'd set up before him. Meticulously Near was arranging sets of tiny, toy furniture about the rooms of the house.

"I was making a list of ways in which I could maim Beyond Birthday once we found him. It took up a good portion of the night," Matt responded dryly.

L hummed in tune to the clacking of his keyboard keys, mind flying through police report after news article, eagerly searching out any red flag that would illuminate Beyond's whereabouts. It was one thing to have an idea of where B would leave his next victim, but L would much rather prefer it if he knew exactly where Beyond was staying. It'd make things so much easier. Speaking of easier…

"You should have been assisting Near," L said sharply.

Matt glanced up, a scowl firmly in place. "You never asked, besides, I was working."

"Doing what?"

"Same thing you're doing now." Matt sat up so he had a better view of the back of L's head. A part of him wished he had something to throw into the detective's rat nest of hair, a spitball would suffice. "I was searching over areas Beyond would likely take up residence within. Unfortunately, all crypts and graveyards have reported no disturbances."

L spun around to face Matt, brows scrunched together in confusion. "Why would Beyond choose to live in a crypt? It'd hardly be hospitable to any life form other than vermin."

Matt blinked and then sighed, not knowing if he was meant to take the comment seriously or if L was mocking him. His money was on the latter. "Well, I also checked out abandoned houses, buildings, and the like but nothing came up as suspect. He's covering his tracks well." Matt huffed, blowing a lock of pink bangs out of his eyes. "Which means I'm still stuck with this damn hair."

Near nodded as if he finally understood something he hadn't previously, another piece of the puzzle making its way into his hands. "You're not changing it back until we find Mello."

L's eyes widened in horror. "But I had Watari book you an appointment with Andrew Jose this afternoon for a hair coloring."

Matt gaped at the thin man crouching before him. "You did _what_?" AN appointment at a hair salon? L had booked him an appointment at a luxury hair salon. The notion wasn't quiet making it through Matt's mind in one piece. It was unlikely L had ever seen a comb, let alone a hair dresser.

L ignored Matt, instead picking up his cell phone and speed dialing Watari. The phone rang from the kitchen, five paces away and Matt had to toll his eyes.

"We'll need to cancel Matt's appointment for today," L said quickly before hanging up and turning back to Matt and Near. "If this is the case then I'll need you two to begin work immediately. Our newly discovered lead, compliments of Near, should set us on track to apprehending Beyond."

"And locating Mello," Matt interjected pointedly.

"Precisely, and in so doing we can ensure the days we're exposed to your newest form of visual assault are limited," L grouched before snapping his attention back to his TV monitors.

The corners of Near's lips quirked in dry amusement. "You mean you're not a fan of the hair?"

"No one is a fan of the hair," L bit back. "Anyway, I'd like you boys to begin work on finding the carpet retailers that supply this particular brand of carpeting," the detective motioned towards the blue fiber, enlarged on the center monitor.

"You mean there's more than one type of carpet?" Matt asked in disbelief.

L nodded, nibbling on the tip of his thumb nail. "Yes, and it helps us greatly. This is an incredibly uncommon type of carpet fiber. The forensics reports collected on it were virtually useless in identifying the origins of the fiber, but the erroneous report Mr. Yagami left us with was most insightful."

Matt nodded along, his laptop firing up atop his lap. Within minutes Matt had a virtual copy of Light's report smiling up at him from his computer's screen. "Comprised of the organic compound ethane?" Matt blinked, rereading the report's abstract to be sure he hadn't tripped up somewhere. "You mean it's vinyl? The carpet's made from _vinyl?_" He glanced up at L. "They can do that?"

L's toes fumbled against the leather upholstery of his swivel chair, discomfited. "It doesn't sound at all comfortable. But yes, the carpet fiber was vinyl."

"Okay then," Matt breathed, cracking his knuckles. "What's the lead Albino Boy over here got us?"

The petite teenager in question glared sharply at Matt but answered nonetheless. "It's simple enough really, and I have no doubt that if L hadn't been preoccupied with Light Yagami's case file, he would have unearthed sooner than I had. Either way, it was the first part of Beyond's note that clued me in. He said the carpet was being removed from the room, as in no longer there - "

"Hold on," Matt interrupted, rapidly clicking through computer files. "I'm bringing up the note… okay, got it." The words of the note appeared atop the computer page, _After removing the carpet from the room, he plays a vinyl record before placing a crown atop his head and hanging himself, he then gets stabbed in the back. _

Near nodded and continued speaking. "Obviously, Beyond is saying that the next crime scene will be an area where there is no carpet. It falls nicely in line with his last known murder case, where he often removed something from the crime scene as a hint towards where he'd strike next. Only this time, I'm fairly certain he didn't remove anything himself. It's not easy to remove carpet. So I brought up a list of every carpet retailer in the London area, there are seven hundred and sixty two." Matt drew in a sharp breath but Near ignored him. "However, I spent the night cross referencing them with those that are being remodeled and hence, have had their carpeting removed. It required building a database of all current construction jobs around the city, as well as carpet orders and exchanges, but I got it."

Matt frowned. "Not that that doesn't make sense, but how do you know it a carpet store? I mean, it could just as easily be a home right?" Near looked up at L from behind his doll house, apparently he'd been thinking along the same lines but had yet to broach the subject with their mentor.

L spun in a slight circle, a rather large, pink frosted cookie pinched between his fingers. "I'd originally considered that when I saw the carpet fiber, but then, the murder would have been a reported crime and we'd hear about it immediately. That's not what Beyond's after. He wants us to work through the puzzle ourselves now, not be led right through it by the police. Thus, he'd pick an area where a body wouldn't readily be discovered, some place large or only rarely visited. A warehouse."

Matt didn't have much time to contemplate the brilliance that comprised L. He could do that once he was back at Wammy's. Now he was pulling up the extensive list of Carpet Warehouses Near had emailed him. What had begun as a list of over seven hundred locations had been narrowed down to three hundred. Three hundred carpet stored were currently without carpeting of their own, the irony did not escape the pink haired youth. With a few clicks of the mouse he was shuffling through the list, seeking out the one store that had what he was looking for.

"The Unnatural Flooring Company," Matt proclaimed proudly as the result flashed across the screen. "That's the next crime scene."

L sprung from his chair like a frog, moving swiftly to hang over Matt's shoulder. "How did you find that so quickly?"

Matt mentally danced in the glow of L's awe as he answered. "I built a search engine, it's pretty damn fast. Plus, it enables me to input certain parameters, like a normal search engine would, but I can manipulate it so the search only checks over what I tell it to. In this case, I hit a quest to analyze Near's list for any stores selling Vinyl carpet. One result came up."

"The Unnatural Flooring Company," L stated, black eyes flying across the page. "They specialize in a woven, vinyl type of flooring. Their King Street location is currently closed, an unfortunate remodeling accident causing half of the roof to cave in." A slow grin stretched over L's lips, the detective's eyes widening in anticipation. "I need to make a call. Get ready to leave."

"What?" Matt turned to L but the man was already shuffling towards Watari's quarters, cell phone in hand. "What do you mean I need to get ready to leave?" Matt cried over the back of the couch, but L wasn't listening.

Near stood from the dollhouse, bracing himself on one side to push it towards a corner of the living room riddled with toys. "It means we will be leaving."

Matt shot the younger boy a rather displeased glare before snapping his laptop shut and carefully placing it in his bag. "Just let me get my shoes …" he grumbled sarcastically.

As Matt was lacing up his sneakers L came shuffling back into the room, a microphone and several chords in hand. Watari trailed after the detective with another monitor in his arms, ready to set it atop the dining table already surrounded by three large, LCD television screens.

"Watari, I'd like you to escort Matt and Near to Unnatural Flooring," the raven haired barked quickly, dumping his electrical equipment across the finely polished wood. "Once there Watari will supervise both of you as you monitor the area," he nodded to his wards over his shoulder, simultaneously connecting the microphone to several chords and handing them to Watari. The elder man to expertly attached the mass of wiring to the television screen he'd brought out. "Near, you will be on surveillance from inside the vehicle with Watari," L continued giving out orders. "Matt, I want you to go into the warehouse itself, see if Beyond's left anything behind, mainly a body."

"And if he hasn't?" Near asked, delicately fumbling with a Decepticon he'd selected to accompany him on the trip.

"Then you'll just watch the area. Hence the term _surveillance_."

Matt sighed, leaning his back against the door, PSP already beeping in impatience. "You're staying here?"

"Affirmative," L responded tartly. "I'll be watching everything from this hotel room. So, while you're out there please do exactly as I instruct. I don't much fancy going outside today. It's hot."

3B

When Light finally removed himself from his bedroom it was to the harsh scent of strong coffee percolating out of the kitchen, up the wrought iron staircase, and into his nostrils. The gentle sound of voices was carried around the hotel suite, riding on the back of the caffeinated perfume and nudging him into the living room.

"Afternoon Light!" Sayu chirped happily from her perch on his loveseat. Her fiancé was seated beside her, an apologetic smile marring his features.

Tiredly Light fell back on the couch, dress shirt and black, designer jeans rumpling as he slumped over. The uncharacteristic action brought a frown to the faces of the engaged couple and if Light noticed their sudden stillness he didn't comment.

"Are you okay Onii-chan?" Sayu asked, worriedly offering a cup of coffee to her brother.

"I'm fine," was the curt reply she got. Light didn't take the coffee either.

Sayu rose stiffly, moving to stand over her brother. "If you're going to lie to me I'd appreciate it if you used something a little more original than that."

Light snorted but opened his eyes to stare into his younger sibling's concerned visage. "I've been dreaming about Beyond."

"So you know it's Beyond doing this then?" she asked, her concern quickly transforming into an expression of grave discontent.

Light grinned candidly at her. "Never had any doubt to begin with."

Sayu huffed and sat back down aside her future husband, hand seeking to interlace with Hachirou's. "Why?"

"Why what?" Light shot back. "Why did Beyond kill the most hated individual of your bridal party or why am I actively seeking him out?"

"Neither," Sayu sneered, her brother's antics doing nothing to calm her nerves. "Why are you working with L?"

Light's eyes rolled over to her, sobering immediately. "What makes you think I'm working for L now?"

"I found this," she turned to the unbranded computer sitting on the table between the couches. "It's not yours and I'm not an idiot."

Light knew that, and it was one of those things that he both detested and loved about his younger sister. As a child she may have been innocent and often silly, but she'd grown up, discarding the childish antics most teens didn't shed until well after their early twenties earlier than most. Though she'd never be as intelligent as her brother she had more common sense than the average individual, which made her smarter than average. It also made getting information past her eyes harder than Light thought necessary. She was too perceptive and it often gave way to squabbles between the two of them.

"I thought you were staying out of this Sayu," Hachirou whispered from his future wife's side.

"Wha- you mean," Sayu glanced back and forth between her brother and fiancé and then the realization hit her. "Oh my god you two!" she shouted, rising from her seat, eyes blazing in uninhibited fury. "It's not enough you're chasing after a homicidal maniac but working with _L_? I can't believe this! "

"Why?" Light asked with a grin, clearly mocking her.

Sayu glared at him.

Hatchirou sighed, reaching out and pulling the young woman back into her seat. There was no getting between siblings. "At this point it's all according to plan."

"Save that he knows who you work for," Light said blithely, completely ignoring the wide-eyed, alarmed looks his sister was sending him.

"I figured he would," the younger, Asian man responded heavily.

"And what?" Sayu snapped. "That's fine? He's L! The man is the personification of justice, not to mention his morals are twisted and warped!"

Light sat up fully, moving to take the coffee cup his sister had left for him atop the table. "He won't be an issue as long as I work with him, which is what I wanted to do anyway."

"And what about after this is all over? What then?" Sayu shook her head furtively. Light could already see her deep, brown irises begin to shimmer with water. "He'll have something on Hatchi Light, and I don't like that!"

Hachirou seemed to also sense his girlfriend's oncoming duress for he gently wrapped an arm around the petit woman's waist. "Sayu, it doesn't matter what L has on me. It's as you said, his morals are skewed. If he truly had an issue with me he'd have brought it up already. But he hasn't, there's nothing in it for him. Okay sweetie?" He nudged the side of her head with his forehead, trying to instill some amount comfort into her being.

A soft vibration shook Light's left thigh and he glanced away from the couple on his couch to the pocket of his jeans. The vibration came again and Light dug into the pocket, fishing out the thin, cellular devise. Sayu wasn't going to be pleased.

"Hey guys," Light interrupted his sister and her future husband's tender moment, his lips drawn in a grim line. "I need to take this." Not pausing to glance at his sister and her confused visage Light picked up his coffee and headed back towards his bedroom for some privacy. Moments after an enraged shriek ruptured through the solid, wood door, drawing a slight chuckle from Light's lips as he flipped the phone open.

"I HATE THAT MAN!"

3B

It was not hot outside. In fact, the temperature wasn't even in the seventies. Either L was extremely sensitive to heat or he was full of bullshit. Matt was fairly confident in the bullshit answer. Pocketing the PSP he pulled his goggles over his eyes, tinting the sunlit street in orange, and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible when crossing the street. Of course, one can only be so nonchalant when exiting a bright, pink truck with the worlds Angel Crepes embolden across the side in a flowery font. Only L would choose a mobile bakery as his personal batmobile. Though the truck wasn't merely a front Matt supposed as he dashed across King's Street. The brightly colored van was outfitted with a surveillance system more advanced than anything Interpol could ever dream up as well as an oven, refrigerator, and shelves upon shelves of different types of crepe fillings. It was rather awe inspiring, L's ability to tote artery clogging food wherever he went. Only issue was the detective wasn't present as that moment.

The Unnatural Flooring Company on King's Street ended up being a rather small, black hole in the wall, sandwiched between a contemporary art gallery and a scooter store. The scent of cheap pizza and Thai food had polluted the entire street, causing Matt's nose to crinkle, nauseated. The street was splattered with people here and there, milling through the worn down, antique brick buildings, window shopping. No one paid the teen any attention as he bent up against the front window of The Flooring Co., cupping his hands over his face to peer inside.

"I don't see anything inside L," Matt whispered into the microphone concealed upon the collar of his shirt. The same pink ribbon pin from a few days ago was adhered to his chest, providing both the detective and Near with a visual of everything he saw.

"Go inside," L ordered, a scruffy tone of boredom permeating his voice.

Matt rolled his eyes but glanced over the entire building complex. Like most of the area, the edifice was brick, three stories tall with high arched windows showcasing the two stories above the shop. Matt found his way into the structure directly to the left of the Art Gallery where a small alley way extended towards the other side of the building.

Quickly he stepped into the shadow of the shop's building and the building adjacent to it. The alley way was just barely wider than he was, but it allowed the teen enough space to move comfortably. Crumbling asphalt crunched beneath Matt's sneakers, damp from lack of sunlight and putrid with the decay of garbage. A series of large, plastic trash cans lined both sides of the narrow through space. But other than that Matt saw no alternative entrance.

Frowning, he strode down the length of the alley, pausing as he heard the unmistakable crunch of glass under the sole of his shoes. Drawing his attention upwards he grinned as the minute, broken window glared down at him.

Grunting the teen hoisted himself up onto the trash cans, stretching so his finger tips just barely gripped the window's ledge. Jumping up he gripped the ledge, hand slicing open across broken glass. Wincing, he scrambled up the wall, wiggling through the small opening. Shards of glass still jutted out from the shattered window pane, tearing and snagging at the fabric of his shirt and jeans as he squirmed and writhed, pushing himself into the building. Unceremoniously Matt tumbled from the window and into the building, a cloud of dust flying into the air around him and settling in his hair. Thin scrapes opened along his arms and cheek as he rolled over another layer of broken glass

"Okay L," Matt hissed into the mic, pushing himself up off the littered floor. "I'm in."

"Yes I can see that," the detective's monotone voice filtered through the ear piece Matt was plugged into. "You're rather limber, though I suggest you get something to stop wrap around your hand."

Matt ignored L's words of wisdom, instead wiping away the dust from his goggles and glancing about the room. It was entirely vacant, save for several rolls of heavy duty plastic wrap crammed in the corner of the room. A door was leaning against the wall opposite him, seeming to have been ripped clean off its hinges. Beside the broken door panel was the blank space the piece of wood had previously occupied, leading into a hallway with bright sunlight streaming directly inside.

Poking his head through the door frame Matt could easily see why the entire building had been closed down. The roof was missing, as if some massive crater had blown clean through the shingles. The ceiling now consisted of several large, clear pieces of plastic supported by bungee cords and painter's tape. A chilly breeze wafted through the exposed hallway, carrying the scent of fresh paint and primer through the area. The corridor's floors seemed to have been completed before the roof caved in. Matt slid easily across the lightly dusted floor, leaving a trail of shinny, polished wood in his tracks. Slowly the boy crept down the stairs, keeping sure to have the camera on his chest swipe over every inch of the house for L. Within minutes he'd descended down a fine wood staircase into another hallway of polished wood. The walls here were still striped with the neon blue of tape, half of the right length of wall painted while all other surfaces were the stark white of primer. The end of the hall was framed by two doors, one labeled with the name of the art gallery on a golden plaque, the other with Unnatural Flooring clearly stamped across the surface.

Not expecting much, Matt tried the bronze door handle, eyes widening slightly as the knob turned easily, the door swinging open and beckoning Matt onward.

"Careful," L barked over the connection, his voice stern with a warning Matt didn't need to hear. He already knew.

Someone had been there. It was why the window glass had been broken in both ways, the glass falling on either side of the brick wall, signs of entrance and escape. If that wasn't enough, the fresh foot prints walking across the floor through the thick layer of powdered plaster and wood shavings was. Matt followed the impressions through the cramped office space situated in the back of the store and into the main, selling area where they turned off behind the register, halting before a closed door.

Matt started to reach for the door handle before pausing. "Hey L, I know you said you wanted me to do a recon on the whole building, but I don't think that's the best idea here."

The response Matt got was static.

"L?"

"…"

"Fuck it," Matt groaned. "Near are you there?"

"Yes…" the albino teen's voice came over the line.

Matt pursed his lips in annoyance. "Where the hell is L?" he demanded.

"Getting a snack I imagine."

Matt's lips pursed farther, aggravated by the fact that Near's assessment was actually a logical answer. "Fine, I'm going down."

Without waiting for his childhood acquaintance to add his own opinion Matt opened the door. Darkness engulfed the plywood stairs, nails sticking up off the side of the step at odd angles. With a breath Matt braced himself against the thin, metal railing offered to him and took his first step, praying he wouldn't fall. His confidence grew when a second later he found his weight supported by the step and he ascended further into the shop's lowest level. As he came to the last stair a small chain brushed against his face. Blinking stupidly Matt reached up and gently pulled the chain downwards. A soft click came out of the depths of the basement's darkness and a dim, yellow glow was brought to life, doing little to illuminate the space.

There was absolutely nothing Matt could make out from the room. Only the lone light bulb, suspended in the air, was distinguishable through his goggles. But Matt didn't want to remove them. There was something about the space, the very air he was currently breathing into his lungs that urged him to turn around. _Escape_, the atmosphere was whispering against his skin, licking at the back of his neck and telling him to leave.

The danger of the situation was palpable despite the evident lack of threat. Matt treaded further across the concrete floor. Coming to stand beneath the swaying light Matt turned full circle, eyes peeled, ready to make sense of the dark perimeter caging him in.

Something flew through the corner of Matt's eye, yanking his attention back towards the front of the basement. Matt stiffened, not moving from his position in the light, afraid to abandon the safety of the light bulb and become lost to the darkness. And that would have been great if the bulb hadn't clicked off.

Matt's spine froze over, trapped in an inch thick layer of ice. He could feel the eyes on him, kept from looking straight into his own by the orange lenses he'd strapped around his head. They were the only barrier between himself and the invisible figure standing before him.

Matt stopped breathing; every cell in his body straining to hear that sound he knew would be there. Eyes peeled wide open he waited for the quiet clicking that had haunted his childhood. He didn't have to wait long. From the black wall curving before him came the gentle, melodic sound of a muted chuckle.

And then the music started.

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A/N:

Shizuka no Taisho (who you may or may not know for her delightful BB/Kira fics) and I recently got together and created a new group on DeviantArt entirely dedicated to Beyond Birthday and Kira. I know quiet of few of you guys are partial to these boys (why else would you read this fic) so if you have a DA account please come and join! If you don't have DA account then make one and join. XD

You can find the group here: http : / murderousjustice . deviantart . com

Just delete the spaces. You can also find it by going to my profile and clicking on the link to my DA page.

As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N:

I apologize for the wait. Plot got tweaked. But I think you're going to like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note

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Chapter 12

L glared through the camera, observing the scene critically. It had taken him a grand 38 seconds to hack into the city surveillance system, hijacking every camera on King's Street, even the private ones. The angle provided by the black and white camera he was currently peering through, mounted above Upsiy Daisy Bakery, presented L with a rather clear shot of Light Yagami, lounging outside the bakery window with a cappuccino in hand. The boy looked positively divine, an angel, cursed to live amongst the repugnant human race for being more brilliant than god. And yet, despite Light Yagami's untouchable aura, people were drawn to his glow, preening at his feet and simply wishing he'd look at them once, if only for a second. In another life Light Yagami would have made a brilliant con man.

Or perhaps the boy already was.

Three people had all ready approached Light. Each one of them sitting and chatting with the Asian beauty, a less than innocent glint of hope shining in their eyes. An unfamiliar twist wrenched at L's gut as he glared down over it all, he sincerely hoped it was indigestion.

It was hard to maintain that hope, however, when the truth was content to smack L across the face and steal his lollipop while he sat there, dazed and thoroughly perplexed. It was only as he crouched over a bowl of ice cream, keenly observing the foreign enigma, that L'd fully had time to analyze things as they were. And now that his mind was gaining new insight into its own soul, a place L detested venturing into, he was more than a little disconcerted with the conclusions being drawn.

He was attracted.

It wasn't the first time L had felt something more than platonic for one of his minions. The name Naomi Misora came immediately to mind.

For him not to have immediately noticed his attraction this time though… it set the raven haired man on edge. It meant he'd been too busy planning, devising, and calculating to clearly see the one important, though relatively useless, factor nestled sweetly in his lap. It meant he'd been distracted; mind diverted by the very object his physical desire was set upon. To be mentally derailed by another human being, it was a new experience for L.

Things would be so much easier if Light Yagami didn't insist on being brilliance personified. But he was. And if that wasn't enough to ensnare the detective than the verbal sparring was. The consistency through which the younger man refused to take L's bullshit, it invigorated the raven haired man.

…he also found it rather annoying.

"There are foot prints on the interior, leading into what the floor plan shows as the basement" L droned into the microphone, carefully scrutinizing Light's reaction.

The twenty year old spoke nonchalantly over the cell phone directly tied to L, and yet, the tone was challenging. "How fresh?"

"Day old to hours ago," L relayed, rewinding the feed Matt was recording and pausing to view the human tracks once more. They were appropriately sized for Beyond and that was all L needed to know.

Near's channel pinged to life with the albino child's lifeless voice, but L didn't hear it. He was too busy watching Light thoughtfully take a bite of his Apple Pie, free, complements of one flirtatious waitress. Briefly, L wondered if this was what Beyond's aim had been. To pull Light into the case in order to distract L, throw him a red herring that he, or anybody else on the face of the planet, would be unable to ignore. If that was the case then L felt Beyond had severely underestimated Light because where L's work ethic was failing, Light Yagami's was not.

"Don't let him go down there."

L stared at the screen, mind rushing to catch up with the abrupt statement. "Why? Do you see anything?"

Concern for L's successor was written in the shape of Light's brow and sat aside something else L couldn't quite decipher. But Light didn't answer the question. "Something's wrong," Light whispered into the phone, the tension in his voice speaking for what his body language refused to show.

L's eye's moved over the monitors surveying the street. "I don't see anything."

"That's because he's not out here, he's in there," Light said, forking a cinnamon drenched apple into his mouth and washing it down with a sip of his coffee.

L didn't need to ask who _he_ was, and he also wasn't about to argue with Light's logic. He'd known the moment he'd seen the footprints that Beyond was lurking in the house. L figured he probably should have said something about it to Matt, who was currently performing recon on the same space B was occupying, but he choked back the moral instincts.

"Stay where you are."

Light's body didn't flinch, his expression didn't change, but the tone of his voice was stiffer than a plank of wood solidified in lead. "And what's Matt going to do?"

There it was, the accusatory tone spitting out at L and drenched in judgment. A voice no one else used when speaking to L, save perhaps Watari. But the man was practically family, in a dysfunctional sort of way. Watari was the only individual in the world who knew his real name. That made him special. Light Yagami was nothing of the sort.

"L," the irate voice rapped against the detective's ear. "Beyond is in there. Are you really going to leave Matt to face the psychopath himself? Do I really need to explain the insanity of that single thought? I don't care what kind of experience you think the kid needs!"

L glared at the figure on the screen, unsurprised to find that Light was now looking directly into the security camera. His annoyance for the younger male tripled. He didn't know why he bothered to keep anything from the younger male.

"I don't like reiterating myself Mr. Yagami." _I also don't like how exciting it is that you know exactly what's going through my mind_. "Matt understands the situation he's in." L felt a thin tinge of amusement as Light floundered in anger, seeming no longer care who was watching just as long as he made his point to L.

"Then why the hell did you call me out here? My sister's pissed!"

L smirked into his microphone. "Language Mr. Yagami."

Light's mouth thinned into a small, almost indistinguishable line. "B could kill him."

Immediately all humor ran from L's body, like a trail of ants running from their flooded hill. Morals were such tiresome things. "Don't move. I know exactly where Matt is." He swiveled the chair around to face the screen relaying the feed from Matt's camera and blinked when he saw nothing. The image before him was pitch black.

"And where exactly is that?" Light sarcastically shot into his phone's mouth piece. "A ditch? Six feet beneath ground level? Though Beyond never really showed much initiative to bury his victims. He was all about the display."

L was too busy typing away to respond to Light's biting commentary, what mattered to him was that Light hadn't moved from the café yet. That's all he wanted, Light to stay where he was. He refused to let the FBI agent any closer to Beyond Birthday than he already was. He couldn't afford it. Hence the smoke and mirrors, the conversation, distracting Light from following his curiosity through Unnatural Flooring's front door. Light probably knew L was doing it too. But no matter what the other man thought, it was better to have Light Yagami on screen before him than running around doing god knew what.

"Damn it," though perhaps he should have been keeping a better eye on Matt as well. He'd lost audio.

Light's eyes narrowed on the phone. "What?"

L ignored him. "Near! Where is Matt, I don't have audio and visual is compromised."

"He went into the - " The line went dead.

"_Shit_!"

"Language," Light shot back, but it fizzled over a string of L's profanity. "What happened?"

"Lost audio, but I still have visual. Matt's in the basement and Near's -"

"In the ugly pink truck," Light interrupted. "Yes I know."

L's toes clenched as Light ripped himself out of his wire chair, making to sprint for the flooring store. "I told you to stay where you are!" L shouted into his microphone, teeth grit painfully at the screen as Light proceeded to do the exact opposite of what L was demanding. "Yagami! I WANT YOU TO STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

"Too bad." And Light hung up.

3B

The music filtered through the room, soft, yet scratching, a slight hiccup in a two year olds throat, tiny and high pitched. It was a swaying lullaby, designed to comfort. But paired with the onslaught of darkness raping Matt's vision, the song was anything but.

Hesitantly Matt reached upwards, finger tips brushing warm glass, and he gave the light bulb a tiny flick. Breath held hostage by his throat, he pursed his lips and prayed to the gods responsible for every technological discovery known to man that Edison's incandescent genius would come back to life.

It did, and Matt quickly decided he would have rather stayed in the dark.

The figure was crawling, like some mutated crab that decided to grow arms and legs too skinny to actually belong to a mobile creature. Yet, the thing was moving towards him. Matt refused to acknowledge Beyond Birthday as anything other than a _thing_. The man wasn't human. There was no possible way a human could move the way Beyond did. It was disjointed, tramping across the floor, fingers and toes slapping against the cold, stone surface, eliciting a ghostly echo to ring over Matt's body, gluing him in place. Every fiber of Matt's body rejected what he was seeing, calling out that such an apparition was an impossibility, a frightening unraveling of reality's threads. And yet, he couldn't look away from it.

B laughed as he circled the room, inching closer and closer, then backing away, running to the shadows. And the laughter moved with him. The sound was taunting, teasing, amplified by the scrape of B's nails against the floor. Matt knew that laughter, he knew it from the dark space under his bed; it hadn't changed at all.

Suddenly Matt found his hand itching for the trigger of a gun.

A cackle escaped B's pale lips and he scurried backwards, arms moving over legs sharply, and the shadows swallowed him whole. "Mattie- Ma! Did ya miss me?"

Matt found his voice as the childhood nickname hit. B had a thing for naming things, he remembered. Naming people, the one's he thought belonged to him. "Where the fuck is Mello you sick bastard?"

Outside it had been comfortable, but the temperature in the basement was decidedly not and Matt didn't know why it had taken him this long to notice. Or maybe the temp had only just begun to drop… Frost dotted his eyelashes, his breath puffing out against the air like smoke as Matt turned his head, ears following the laughter.

A giggle rang from behind him. "No no no Mattie-Ma, it's too early for that. But while we're on the subject… would you be willing to tell me which hotel L has decided to hole himself up in? I'd rather like to blow it up."

"Well if that's what you're looking to do then of course, why don't I just give you the GPS coordinates." Sarcasm, it kept him warm and feeling in control of a situation when he knew he had absolutely none.

B came back out of the shadows. Slowly. Matt could feel the man's movements directly behind him and the teen boldly turned to face his childhood tormentor. The fear was there, plainly drenched across Matt's face, but he would not yield. Beyond stood there, just on the edge of the light bulb's dim glow, hair casting jagged shadows to butcher his pallid face. B didn't move. He didn't breathe. He just tilted his head, leisurely, deliberately so tangles of natural black fell across his cheeks, revealing an unblinking stare.

The eyes were bright, scalding so. They burned straight into Matt's blue orbs with an emotion too intense for one human being. They were bright… and yet blacker than ink. They were a contradiction unto themselves, empty, but filled with presence. It was a presence Matt couldn't quite see, as if it was hiding behind a curtain. Whatever was veiled behind that curtain, Matt was fairly certain he didn't want it to step out and reveal itself.

His skin prickled, it crawled, moved over his bones and muscle tendons, desperately trying to back away from B. And Matt wondered why he wasn't running with his skin. He probably should have been running. Hell, he probably shouldn't have gone into the basement to begin with. That'd been a serious lack of judgment on his part.

Beyond came closer. Feet shuffling over each other, toes wiggling like speared worms. B approached and Matt didn't move. He couldn't, no matter the intensity with which his mind was shouting at him to do so, his legs wouldn't fucking move! He was unarmed, utterly defenseless, and B was inching closer. With agonizingly measured steps the wraith creeped, literally creeped, towards Matt before stopping again.

Standing only a matter of feet from where Matt stood, leering blankly, eye's wide and hypnotic in their ability to _not blink, _B just stood there and stared at his prey, smiling. It was the kind of smile the clown in the gutter wore when offering little kids candy and balloons. And suddenly, at the tip of B's horrific smile, Matt's brain fired into action and began manufacturing adrenaline. The teen fell backwards, scrambling out of the light and into the shadow. And B followed, far too quickly for Matt to like.

Oh holy hell was he fucked.

That was about when Matt started throwing things. Desperation being what it was Matt decided he'd put as much as he possibly cold between himself and the man galloping towards him on all fours, quicker than Matt was scrambling backwards. The ear piece went first, fuck L for all the shit he was putting Matt through. It bounced to the ground, not connecting with the leering grin of its intended target. Next went the goggles. Snapped from pink tuffs of hair and flung through the air. B kept coming. The PSP actually grazed the side of B's head and the murderer paused in surprise, weather it was from the fact that he'd been hit in the head with a hundred dollar electronic or because Matt had actually parted with his lifetime lover, Matt really didn't give a rat's ass. As far as he was concerned, if he made it out alive L would be buying him a fucking Game Stop.

Matt's back hit a shelf and he was fumbling with his shoe laces when a loud crash thundered from somewhere up above. The sounds of raining glass and obvious breaking and entering, however, did nothing to deter Beyond. The skinny frame hit him with the force of a bowling ball, B ramming his head into Matt's stomach. The ex-red head's neck snapped against the shelf with a sickening crack, pain, sheer bloody pain, electrocuting his veins. Stars exploded above his head, quick little bursts of light blurring his field of vision into one unintelligible mass. He could feel the nails though. They clawed into his neck, slicing at his air supply and drawing little crescent shaped wounds over his flesh. The blood fell freely.

And then the weight of Beyond was gone, the man's limbs ripped viciously away from Matt's throat, leaving splatters of blood and open flesh in its wake. Another figure, slim and fast, knocked against B, pummeling the ethereal killer to the floor in a ball of flailing limbs. Matt found himself clawing his way up the shelf into a standing position, arms and elbows grappling for support. He could barely see what was happening right in front of him.

Until the other figure, the one who'd pulled B off of Matt, was leaping backwards, dodging what Matt was pretty sure was Beyond's foot. Bullets suddenly went whizzing through the air, the silencer reducing the noise to nothing more than a thin pop.

B dodged every bullet. His body moved like a contortionist, folding over in ways the human form was not meant to move. He was a fucking slinky, bathed in blood with ribs protruding at all the wrong angles. And every bullet missed, they had to keep missing, otherwise the psychopath wouldn't still be moving. He wouldn't still be laughing.

The clip was emptied seconds before Matt's savior discarded it and slammed another one in, proceeding to shoot. Matt didn't really know why the stranger bothered though because B was too fast, the gun was too slow and within minutes the second clip was clicking on air.

B lunged for the other man, tackling him to the floor and laughing merrily all the way. Matt simply stood back and watched as B bit into the other man's neck, blood pooling over Beyond's lips. A muffled yell of pain echoed through the room before B was kicked backwards, the stranger thrusting the murderer off his body. B stumbled backwards, deranged, soul sucking smile still in place before the strange whipped downward, propelling his leg right into B's stomach, sending the man to crash against the staircase. Matt didn't even see where it came from, but another gun was flipping through the stranger's hands, barrel pointing straight for B's chest.

The murderer didn't even hesitate. He flipped backwards over the stairs, narrowly avoiding the single shot meant for his heart. Landing heavily on his feet he ran, vaulting up the stairs and slamming the basement door shut behind him.

Three pinpricks of light filtered through the bullet holes in the door, illuminating caramel colored hair and a dark, designer suit Matt had only ever seen on one person.

"Yagami?" the teen breathed, stepping away from the wall. Matt's eyes painted over with flagrant shock as he suddenly found himself staring down the glinting barrel of a Colt Anaconda. "That FBI standard?"

"For the most part," Light panted, lowering the gun with no amount of apology in his eyes. Mentally, he was thanking the gods for Naomi Misora and her mandatory self defense classes, outwardly, he was pissed. This was all L's fault.

Without even looking at L's successor Light headed deeper into the basement, leaving the kid to follow him. They were screwed. And perhaps he was to blame for that. But he wasn't the type of person to leave a defenseless child in the hands of a murderer that loved nothing more than fucking with other's minds. He practically growled, the Colt shining against the room's only source of light as he stalked deeper into the room.

The music was still playing, the gentle skip occurring every half second alerting Light to the knowledge that it was a record player. His eyes keenly traced the ceiling, quickly picking out the series of pulleys and ropes stretching overhead. That wasn't a good sign.

Especially when he found himself walking straight into a hanging corpse.

3B

The moment the ballroom door slammed shut behind the hem of B's worn out jeans Mello was digging through the pockets of his leather pants. For the first time in days a genuine smile fell over the boy's lips as he fingered the sleek, metal hair pin he'd hid in his pocket. The thin hair accessory twirled between Mello's finger tips as the blonde jammed it into the handcuff's lock. A satisfying click rang out over the hall and Mello's satisfaction grew.

Beyond wanted to know why Wammy's House had taught him about advanced weaponry? The answer was simple. So he'd know how to use it. Within the folds of gray matter encased in Mello's skull was an arsenal of nefarious defensive and offensive mechanisms. And every detail had been supplied by the elite teaching staff Quillish Wammy had personally selected. Public school systems the world over would be out for Wammy's blood if they got so much as a hint of what was being taught behind the establishment's brick and mortar. Beyond thought it ripped the innocence from the already broken children? Well maybe it did. But it also taught kids like Mello how to survive. And Mello was damn ready to prove just how good his survival skills were. He figured it was about time for a demonstration.

The blonde's face set in grim determination as he ran, barefoot, across the ballroom. If Mello wasn't mistaken, which he rarely was, there were six locks standing between him and his freedom. Escape wasn't currently written on the teenager's agenda, not yet at least, but investigation was indispensable. With a heavy grunt he rammed his shoulder against the double doors leading out of the dance hall. Nothing happened. If there was any common sense in the way Beyond had placed the locks then they would be evenly spaced over the thin crack between the two doors. It was that space that would provide the least amount of resistance. Huffing, Mello cast about the room. His eye's fell on the solid wood table with B's perverse game sitting atop it and immediately Mello went for it.

The game pieces rained across the floor in a rainbow of Hasbro and Parker Brothers creations. Grunting, Mello gripped the table and tried to flip it over, to no avail. The thing was heavy, weighing more than Mello did. Not to be discouraged, the blonde climbed on top of the table and stood directly on one of the corners. With a deep breath Mello jumped. A loud crack snapped across the large room and a harsh sting rocketed up Mello's left arm, which he'd used to brace himself as he crashed to the floor.

The table beneath him shattered. Shards of polished wood splayed themselves across the marble floor, glittering in the chandelier light like brown pieces of glass. More importantly however, one of the table legs had snapped clean off, providing Mello with a makeshift battering ram. And for that one piece of broken furniture, the pain was more than tolerable.

Ignoring the burning bruise spreading itself up his left arm, Mello slowly picked himself out of the mess of wood. The table leg was still heavy, but it would work. Locking it in place against his hip like a lance, Mello took a breath and felt the adrenaline of pain tingle beneath his skin. Without thought, he charged the door.

The table leg speared straight through the double doors, blowing the previously barred entrance clean open. Wooden splinters and chips of gold paint settled around the hall, dusting the floor like sharpened snow. Mello sincerely hoped someone had heard the explosion; else he'd have to go hunting.

The blonde wasn't disappointed.

The soft thud of quick footfalls came from somewhere down the hall, closing in on Mello's location. The teen sprinted down the dimly lit landing. There were no other doors aside from the one he'd just decimated. Coming to a turn Mello pressed his back against the corridor wall. Carefully, he angled his head to glance just around the corner to see a uniformed man running towards him. A heavy black vest covered a large percentage of the security guard's chest, a gun bouncing with every brisk step the man took.

The security guards were armed and the thought had Mello's lips pursing in irritation. Of course they were armed, this was a hostage situation. A hotel like the Langham was bound to have an arsenal for emergency situations like the one Mello, and the rest of the staff, currently found themselves in. With a hotel this big there had to be at least fifty guards, twenty on duty at one time, and if one was armed so were the rest of them. Yet, Beyond was still at large. Damn idiots had no backbone.

The blonde pressed his back up against the wall, knees bending slightly, poised for attack. A mental countdown rang out in Mello's head, waiting for the moment his prey would fall into his line of sight. The hotel guard rounded the hallway and Mello just barely caught the surprised widening of blue eyes before he jumped.

He tackled the guard to the floor, a heavy 'oomph' knocking the wind from the guard's lungs. Quickly, Mello flailed, rolling off the man and onto the carpet. His finger's locked over cool metal as he tumbled over the man's side and an internal wave of triumph washed over the adolescent male as he skidded across the carpet.

"What the hell!" the man was already scrambling back to his feet and Mello pressed the gun behind his back. If fortune was feeling at all kind today the guard wouldn't notice the absence of his weaponry.

Panting heavily, Mello stood, glaring heatedly at the man, waiting for his next move.

"You're the kid," the guard whispered, "the- the one staying with him."

"I am _not _with _him_," Mello spat, eyes narrowing.

The guard's face furrowed in confusion before the truth of the situation grasped him. The man took a step towards Mello, hands raised in the universal sign of surrender. "I can get you out of here kid! I can let you go."

A moment of indecision crossed over Mello's face. It'd be so easy to get out right then, take the entire staff with him and leave Beyond with nothing more than an empty hotel. He could do it too. But…

"I appreciate the sentiment," Mello drawled, calmly pulling the gun from behind his back and cocking it at the security guards head. "But that's not what I want."

3B

"It's dead…" Matt's voice came with a slight tremor from beside Light, the boy's eyes tracing the slowly swaying form of the dead body as if it were a pocket watch, hypnotizing him.

Light tucked his gun into the small of his back, a look of resigned disgust marring his visage as he neatly covered the Colt with his jacket. Extracting the phone from his pocket he fastidiously began taking pictures from every angle, forwarding the images of Beyond's second victim straight to L.

Matt stepped closer to the corpse. "He did this didn't he?"

"If by 'he' you mean B, than yes this is his work." Light worked his way around the body, camera phone snapping off rapid flashes as it captured image after image, Light trying his hardest to ignore exactly what it was he was photographing.

Pain flared in Matt's chest, the twenty year old's admission searing straight through him. It was numbing, the phrase and the certainty with which Light had said it, like being plunged into an ice bath. Not that Matt had doubted Beyond was the culprit, not unless he'd fucking hallucinated B trying to claw his throat out with his bare hands. Judging by the pain radiating throughout Matt's neck and the warm, blood dampening his shirt collar, Matt felt his mind was very much rooted in reality. But things would've been so much easier to stomach had Beyond not been responsible for the dead person hanging before his eyes.

Matt could feel less for the hunk of decomposing flesh dangling over him like a frozen worm on a hook. Because, when it came down to it, the only thing he could see when looking into the closed eyelids of Beyond's victim's was Mello. Blonde hair frayed at the edges, cool, angered green eyes, displeased lips, and the scent of chocolate falling off warm breath. It was Mello strung up by a rope, not some random stranger picked out blindly by a convicted criminal, it was Mello. And it made Matt's heart quake. The mental image of Mello, intestines eternally stilled by a formaldehyde injection, eyes milked over and no longer able to process the world, it was more than terrifying. It was enough to make Matt wish Beyond had actually ripped his throat out, torn through Matt's stomach, snapped his rib cage outward, twisted the veins running through his heart, and ripped his brain out through his nostrils, all while his lunges were still gasping for air. All of it would've been easier than having to endure the unrelenting images of Mello's death Matt's mind was so fond of supplying.

Matt would rather die than see Mello dead.

He raised his hand, gently running it down the length of the victim's arm, strands of hair collected over his fingernails as Matt drove them over the hardened flesh. Matt wasn't an expert, but he was pretty sure a fresh corpse wasn't supposed to feel that way. "There's a crown on her head…"

Light glanced up and raised his cell phone, allowing the LCD screen to shine on the plastic jewels glittering from the stained metal. It wasn't so much a crown as a mockery of one. And B had left his mark clearly in the fake, red jems. "Go get the Crepe Team."

3B

"He- he told us to call him if- if you broke out…"

The security guard's stuttering voice grated against Mello's already pain impaired mind. If he didn't need the guard to get what he wanted on the hotel then he would've shot the quivering man then and there. In the knee cap of course, give the bastard ample time to call into his walkie-talkie for some medical backup. That is, if the idiot had even a modicum of pain tolerance, though judging by the sniveling that was taking place before Mello, the blonde assumed otherwise.

Mello didn't even have his finger on the trigger; the digit was laid flat against the barrel of the gun. He was going Hollywood style here. Too bad his security dunderhead couldn't tell the difference.

"I don't want you to be making any calls right now," Mello demanded. "Take me somewhere secure."

The guard nodded his head vigorously and briskly began walking backwards down the hall the way he'd came. Mello's arms never wavered as he kept the weapon trained on the stumbling man. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. Adrenaline was wonderful that way. The glorious, biological chemical also kept any moral thought the teenager might have had at bay. Minimally at least. He knew what he was doing was wrong, in every sense of the word. He also imagined that he looked like a raving lunatic in his torn leather pants, blood stained feet, and the countless bruises blooming like a garden of purple roses across his skin. The mental imagine only added to Mello's chagrin over the whole affair. He was acting like a lunatic too, he knew, but only because it was effective. Perhaps the guard would forgive him after he saved his worthless life.

The pair made their way towards a service elevator hidden behind a series of doors marked only for hotel staff. The freight lift clanged loudly as the guard switched it into gear, jerkily lowering Mello and his hostage into the bowls of the hotel. Funnily enough, the back parts of the hotel, areas not meant for the eyes of its guests, were just as luxurious as the rest of the establishment. Dim lighting, warm carpeting, comforting paint colors, and a lot of glistening chandeliers opened before Mello as the elevator gate clashed open. The freight elevator itself seemed to be the only part of the hotel covered in grime.

Mello nodded impatiently for the security guard to vacate the elevator. Jumping, the man set off down the hall before them, leading Mello into the kitchen.

"O-okay," the guard hands were raised still, palms open, perspiration glinting in a thin sheen across his skin. "The kitchen staff was sent on holiday so no one will bother us here."

The guards words went unacknowledged however as Mello paced around the room. Vibrant eyes swept over the stainless steel appliances. All the while the gun never left the guard's form and Mello's arm was failing to get tired. Three massive ovens lined the right hand wall of the kitchen, after which sat two stove tops. Opposite the appliances was a row of sinks and four industrial sized refrigerators. From the freezers came a low hum, prickling the air with static. Down the center of the room was a long table, vacant and shining in the kitchen's artificial lighting. The guard's heavy, erratic breathing frosted the air-conditioned atmosphere as Mello turned to glare back at him, completing his turn about the room with his back facing what appeared to be another entrance into the kitchen.

A strong arm wrapped itself roughly around Mello's slim neck, lifting the slim teen off his feet as he was caught off guard by the backup that had unknowingly been called in. Air flow was abruptly halted as an overlarge muscle crushed the blonde's trachea against his spine. Despite the immediate reaction of tears clouding Mello's eyes his body instinctually moved to protect itself. One sharp jab from his left elbow into the stomach of his assailant and air rapidly rushed back into his lungs. Without even pausing to gasp Mello whipped around and seized the holstered gun from his attacker, pressing the full weight of his body onto the man's shoulder. The disabled security personal grunted in pain as gravity and Mello pushed him towards the floor. The man hadn't thought to come into the kitchen readily armed, underestimating Mello given the mere fact he was a teenager. And now the large security guard now had his own weapon pressing into his neck. Lessons for the brain cell deficient.

The guard Mello had forced to escort him to the kitchen stared at his coworker in terrified awe, mouth lying on the floor catching flies. The guard had a walky-talky pressed over his lips, speaker button held down by his sweaty thumb, but nothing was being said. Deftly, Mello raised the other gun, ignoring his left arm's screaming protests of agony, and cocked it back onto his first captured idiot.

"Call _anyone _and it's me, in the kitchen, with the 9mm semi automatic," the blonde growled dangerously.

His original prisoner nodded vigorously while the new idiot guard seemed to posses more balls. "Like hell," he gritted from the floor, knees pressing into the white, tile under Mello's weight. "Do you even know what's going on here kid?"

"Do I seem uninformed here?"

"You're a hostage!" the man spat against the gun pressed to his jugular. "Just like the rest of us!"

Mello nodded, a vicious smile lining his face. "Oh thanks for informing me! I had _no_ idea." The sarcasm dripped off Mello's tongue like a corrosive poison. "Strange then, how when I, a hostage, makes a break for it you boys are all for nailing my pretty little ass back to the floor."

"You don't know what he did…" the guard Mello had nabbed outside the ballroom, Idiot Number One's, voice filtered over Mello's harsh tones. "So much blood… He hasn't stopped bleeding…"

Idiot Number Two, the one sitting beneath Mello, stiffened.

The boy glanced between the pair. "What?"

Another grunt of pain hissed through Idiot Number Two's teeth. "The hotel manager, that bastard killed him. Sliced him up like a god damn pig at the slaughter house."

Mello flashed back to the doorman who'd pretty much informed him of the same thing. Naturally B would have wanted the entire staff to see what he was capable of. The murderer ruled simpletons through fear because it was the easiest way to make them comply. Mello lifted himself off Idiot Number Two, careful to keep the gun squarely on the man's head. "Show me."

Idiot Number Two's brows hunched together, disbelief cleanly weighing into his stunned eyes. "I – I can't do that…"

A blonde eyebrow disappeared beneath the tattered fringe of Mello's bangs. "Why the fuck not?"

Number Two winced at the language, further robbing Mello of any respect he had for the man. It was just a bloody word, could hardly hurt anyone. The gun in his hand though, that most defiantly could paint a pretty blood splatter on the long table decorating the kitchen space. Something Idiot Number Two failed to identify with, his bravery blinding his common sense. Idiot Number One, on the other hand, seemed to pick up on the rainbow colored thoughts running through Mello's mind.

The first guard stepped a shaky foot forward, hesitation vibrating through his boots. "It's this way." He shuffled hastily across the tiled floor, eyes firmly locked on the guns in Mello's hands.

Mello shot the man a cheerful smile. "Well let's go then!" He kicked Number Two with his barefoot, wiggling his toes against the man's stomach. Damn if B was rubbing off on him.

The trio marched out of the kitchen, leaving through the door Idiot Number Two had so gloriously attacked from. The swinging door led down another elegant corridor which branched out into a series of plush offices. Five paces into the workplace setting and the teen immediately knew a dead body lay ahead of them. Not that he'd ever actually seen a naturally, rotting human corpse before, formaldehyde pumped cadavers was the furthest he'd gotten in his medical education. But there was no way anybody could mistake the rancid stench hanging glaringly in the air for something other than putrefaction. The deleterious odor spoke to Mello's flight instincts on a newly discovered level, urgently whispering of the invisible predator responsible for the atrocity sitting behind a finely carved oak door.

It was as they neared the office furthest down the hall that the carpet let out a sickening squelch beneath Mello's toes, and the blonde felt concerned. He lifted his foot from the sticky fibers, showing little emotion as he glared down at the red stain marring the bottom of his pale foot. Five feet from the back office and the carpet was saturated with blood.

A strong hand clasped over Mello's thin solider. "You're only a child," Number Two whispered morosely. "This isn't something you should see, no matter how tough you think you are."

Mello ignored him and covered the remaining distance between himself and the door, desperately ignoring the tacky liquid seeping beneath his toe nails. Why was he doing this again? Mello's mind failed to answer that innocent, little question so he pushed the office door open and promptly vomited across the floor. The two security guards rushed to Mello's side, holding him up right to keep him from kneeling into the bloodied ground.

The hotel manager hung suspended from the ceiling, dangling in stillness. Bloated eyes bulged out from sockets no longer large enough to house the milky orbs. Matted, blood stained hair clumped like moss over the man's face, dyed black and crusting in the dried liquid. Other than the grayish tinge of decay decorating the manager's face, the pallor of death was not openly visible over the man's skin. He was stained red, thickly drenched in his own blood, the dye running slowly out from his veins, each of which had been wrenched through his skin, severed open, and set in a flaying direction with unfolded paper clips. The man's suit had been stripped from his body, leaving him nude, though his modesty remained intact, the man's own intestinal system having been removed from the interior of his abdominal region and tied about his waste like a loincloth.

Blood was still dripping from the manager's body. It collected in a puddle across a desk littered with papers and business cards before falling in a gentle stream down the table legs and onto the floor. From there the blood spread, hungrily eating into the carpet, spreading through the room, causing the florescent lighting secured to the ceiling to reflect a pinkish hue onto the white washed walls.

Everything else was remarkably clean. The window behind the hanging corpse, the walls, the door, the ceiling, shelves filled with pictures of little kids and a black haired beauty playing on the beach, filing cabinets, it was all clean. No dust, no finger prints, everything unmarred by the rancid decay hanging before Mello's eyes. Everything except for the desk, which now sat like an altar beneath the bleeding effigy, was clean.

A set of strong arms pulled Mello roughly off his feet, carrying the sickened youth from the office. He barely noticed as he was taken by his own hostages out of the office space and back towards the kitchen. The guns were left behind, dropped to marinade in a puddle of crimson liquid. The rest of Mello's stomach ended up searing out of his mouth and into a sink the moment he was set down on the kitchen's tiled floor, bile splattering against the deep basin and leaving his chest heaving dryly.

That… had not been what Mello had expected to see. Not. At. All. But then, what _had_ he been expecting from Beyond Birthday of all people? The man was vile, monstrous. There was no other word to slap across B's head other than that. Monster. A meticulous, plotting, monstrosity of human imperfection. Everything B did had a reason behind it. Beyond's was not the insanity of mindless indulgence, hapless violence caused solely because he didn't know any better. In a brief moment of victory, mind titillated with his success, Mello had forgotten that. He'd forgotten the most important thing L had taught him, the most important fact regarding B's psyche. Beyond Birthday was an orchestrator, he planned everything out, and no matter the slightest deviation, everything fell neatly into the rivulet he'd carved out for it. Just as Mello had.

Upon glancing at the hotel manager's body, every ounce of drive Mello had had vacated his system, left to stew with the vomit in the sink. B had ripped the ambition, the determination right from Mello's heart, and all it had taken was a two second look at a dead body. Blonde hair, damp with gastric juices stuck to Mello's cheek as he gazed, hypnotized by the bile swirling down the drain. He was fucked. That's all there was to it. He was fucked.

Mello didn't know which Idiot it was, but one of them snuck up beside him and turned the faucet on, washing the sour, half digested food down the sink. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

_No,_ Mello thought viciously. _There is nothing that can be done. Nothing_. Someone else had died last night. Of that Mello was sure. Some unlucky bastard had their eternal countdown cut short because Beyond Birthday needed it to be done. A good portion of that person's death was Mello's fault too. If B was planning on leading L anywhere in the city, Mello was sure it would be to him. Or his dead body at least. And there was nothing that could be done to halt the fall of the dominos. Mello was already where B wanted him to be and he couldn't _fucking _move out of the murderer's asinine spotlight. His conscious wouldn't let him.

That was the purpose of the hotel manager's death. It'd been a gift for the teen, lovingly left by Beyond in order to demonstrate what would happen if his Wammy hostage ran. Mello couldn't leave, or the entire hotel would go up in flames. Communication. The piece of shit was good at it.

"Kid?" the word was rasped out of a tired voice. Idiot Number Whatever, steering him around by the shoulder, away from the sink. "Do you need anything?"

Mello wrenched himself from the man's hold, rage engulfing his mind, blurring the vision of B's little gift into an idea. "Yeah," he fumed, leveling his burning eyes on his pair of idiots. "I do need something. I need a record of every phone call, received and outgoing, that has been made in the past three months."

The guards both stared at him, caught between horror and pity, but they nodded mutely, perhaps not even realizing that the threat of a bullet whizzing through their skull was now absent. Mello ignored them, too entrapped within his own mind, cogs whirring against each other rapidly, causing sparks to fly through his eyes. He wouldn't let Beyond win. Though the murder had beaten him at every turn so far and Mello's previous plan of action now lay in ruins upon the floor, feeling disenfranchised would get him nowhere.

It was time to bring Darling out of the shadows.

3B

The moment Light crossed the threshold of his hotel suite he found his back slamming into the wall, a set of slender, yet muscular arms caging him against the surface and barring him from escape. Light's mouth parted in surprise as he was pinned with L's coal, black eyes. The detective's visage contained a touch of irritation, the only indication of the man's true displeasure. A grin wound its way across Light's lips as he stared back at his employer, amusement smoothly replacing shock. L's eyes narrowed as he traced Light's cheeky grin and Light could practically taste the aggravation steaming off the taller male.

Tilting his head to the side Light found himself indolently reaching up to brush a strand of L's hair out from his eyes. The stubborn lock however bounced back into its rumpled place, interrupting the intensity of L's gaze. Light enjoyed seeing the rigid tension of L's shoulders, the man's arms locked firmly in place, straight as a board, perpendicular to the wall. A small amount of mirth escaped Light's mouth as he gently grasped L's arms and pulled them away from the wall, freeing him from the spot L'd pinned him to.

The detective had been concerned, he was touched.

Moving off the wall, Light casually entered his hotel suite. "It wasn't that big of a deal L."

The detective didn't seem to agree. "I specifically told you not to go to the crime scene," L said dully, his form dropping back into its customary hunch as he followed Light into the living room. "You disobeyed me."

Light sighed. "Everything I do is by my own discretion," he replied, taking a seat on the couch. "You didn't actually think I'd do what you asked of me, did you?"

L stopped and observed Light carefully. Outwardly the young man looked perfectly fit. The limp in his leg was barely discernable and L had to admit Light did an excellent job of hiding the bruise blossoming across the back of his neck with his jacket. But L knew the injuries were there. And Light knew L knew.

The insomniac's thumb found a comfortable spot in between his lips and the detective chewed on the nail dejectedly. "He hurt you."

"We both knew there'd eventually be a confrontation." Light waved it off, crossing his uninjured leg over the other, the grimace of pain barely touching his lips. "So stop pouting, it's unbecoming.

"I told you not to go," L mumbled irately, awkwardly looking over Light's hotel room.

"So you were going to leave Matt there on his _own_?" Light shot at his employer. "B would have killed him!"

L's wide eyes rounded back to the couch. "And now you've been compromised," he stated matter of factly, bristling over the notion. "I can't use you anymore! B will know you're connected to me because you were there with Matt!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"No it isn't. The only thing I needed from you was police information. You were not to interfere into the physical investigation unless I said so!"

Light stood from his seat, a fire of annoyance burning igniting beneath his amber eyes. "You're being ridiculous L! The kid would've died! I don't know if you've ever actually met Beyond Birthday, but may I remind you that he's a serial killer!"

"I know perfectly well who Beyond Birthday is!" L shouted back, for once his emotions getting the better of him. This was precisely what he'd been trying to prevent. Disastrous consequences from associating with outsiders. Light Yagami may have been brilliant, hell without the boy it probably would've taken L another day to find the next victim. And with a genius like Beyond, days were months. But the boy was a risk L wasn't ready to afford. Matt may have been placed in danger, but L was confident that B wouldn't have killed him. Hurt, maim, possibly yes, but kill? B had no reason to do so when he'd already kidnapped Mello. But now that B had seen Light actively working with L's own people… L couldn't predict the murderer's next actions with any amount of certainty. B could kill Mello, he could up and leave altogether… or he could go after Light.

L and Light stared at each other heatedly, their minds battling against the other internally. Each weighing what the other was likely to say and synthesizing an appropriate rebuttal. Their argument continued in silence, stretching over several minutes until Light broke the tension.

"B's been leaving his mark," the brunette said, changing the subject to one that was less likely to have the two of them throwing punches. "He left the a letter on the crown."

"And where's his mark on you I wonder?" L replied snidely.

"I beg your pardon?" Light gaped at the detective, more than a little perturbed by the implication of L's words. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Beyond likes to own things, name them, claim them. You yourself indicated as much in your thesis. We both know he's singled you out, as well as myself, so what brand has he left on you?" The logic poured from L's lips like overly sweetened honey, thick and stifling.

Light blinked, racking his mind for an answer, but he couldn't. There was an impression somewhere in his skin, be it visible or unseen. Something twisting and dark, had nestled itself into the folds of Light's being complements of Beyond Birthday. It tasted of whisky, burning through Light's body in the middle of the night, setting his head aflame with nightmares and leaving him vacant by morning, with nothing more than a cold sweat for company. L's inquiry was the same one Light had only recently begun asking of himself. He'd never had an issue with Beyond until now, and it was especially now that things shouldn't have been a problem. He'd made his peace months ago. There should have been nothing left to agitate… except maybe L.

Light looked into L's inquisitive orbs, searching into their endless depths for an answer of some sort. All he found was more confusion and conflict.

L suddenly found a discomfited sensation rolling down his throat. He needed to leave. It wasn't in his character to behave in the manner he had just now; none of this was in his usual character. And it was a waste of time, something he'd need to learn better to ignore. Softly, he turned away from Light, padding towards the door, intent on reclaiming his clarity. "I'm glad to see you're not seriously injured," he called over his shoulder. "We'll have a video chat later this evening in order to discuss the rest of today's events."

Light nodded numbly as the door clicked shut. But he didn't move, a vague urge to go after L wrapping snuggly over his mind, blanketing his thoughts. What he'd do when he caught up with the detective, Light wasn't entirely sure. But it felt like he'd just let go of something that might have been important.

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A/N:

IMPORTANT! There is a poll on my profile page regarding the potential parings one may see in this fic. I'd very much appreciate your input.

Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: It's short, because I cut it in half. Figured you guys would rather have an update as opposed to waiting another two weeks for the finished chapter. But damn there's a lot going on here.

I apologize for any errors you might find here, editing was slightly rushed this time around.

In any case, I imagine three people will enjoy this chapter. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

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Chapter 13

The coffee was warm in his hands, the hot liquid sending waves of heat through its ceramic confines, nuzzling at the tips of Light's fingertips. Gratefully he took a sip of the smooth drink, the mixture of caffeine, milk, and vanilla searing down his throat in a relaxing tangle of ease.

"You look like you're about to have an orgasm."

Light lifted an eyebrow at his younger sister's words, a twitch of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Excuse me for enjoying the finer things in life."

Sayu scoffed. "There's enjoyment and then there's obscene pleasure. You, Onii-chan, need to have sex."

Light deadpanned. "This is not a conversation to have in public Sayu," the auburn haired man murmured before taking another, indulgent sip of his coffee.

"Aw…" Sayu chuckled, eyes sparkling as she regarded her brother. "Innocent little Light is blushing."

Ignoring the comment Light signaled the waiter, hoping the presence of a stranger would divert his sister's mischievous quips at his expense. Not that he expected it to. The small, London café was filled with individuals taking advantage of an early dinner and the crowdedness of the restaurant did nothing to deter the bride-to-be. Her tactics, however, were applause worthy. Light would give her that. She'd always been good at sensing other's discomfort, and Light knew, the moment she'd happily barged into his hotel suite, he was in for it.

The waiter came and went, taking note of their order before heading into the kitchen and leaving Light to sit in silence with his younger sibling.

The weight of the day was already pressing over him, restricting thought and spurring forth a wariness he hadn't experienced since his first week at the Bureau. Though it was unsurprising, too much excitement to fit into a single day. And yet, somehow the hours were still mounting against him, piling over each other like bricks blocking daylight.

Sayu angled a pointed gaze over her own espresso and opened her mouth to restart the grilling.

Light was faster though. "Where's Hachirou?" he asked, not even attempting a casual demeanor, but instead leveling her with a smart look of his own.

The girl glared but took the bait, consenting to give her brother a break. "Well, most of the past month's preparations were done without him. He'd needed to go back to Japan for a few things. I think he felt guilty about that and I know he was pushing it to arrive just before you got here. Thus, he's insisting on managing things himself now, including sending Rei's body back to Japan. Which, apparently isn't as simple a process as one would think."

"You can't just chunk the corpse in the ocean?"

"I suggested it," Sayu chuckled. "But there are so many down there already, adding Rei would only make things smell worse."

Light smiled faintly, taking in his sister's apparent happiness. And really, he hoped it was genuine. Perhaps tinged with fear and uncertainty, but the girl looked joyful. He just wondered how long it could last. "Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, mouth thinning somewhat.

Sayu blinked, not entirely liking where her brother was directing their dinner conversation. "The wedding?"

Light nodded, cautiously broaching into a subject he was sure would distract Sayu from what she'd come here to discuss… and piss her off at the same time. "Matsuda - "

The woman's face fell beneath a dark cloud, a spark flickering on in her eyes like a lighter, singeing Light with her displeasure. "Is twice my age," she interjected slowly, teeth clenched painfully.

Light was careful to keep his cup centered between himself and the volatile female sitting opposite him. "Yes, but if you had decided to marry him Dad wouldn't have disowned you."

Sayu fought the urge to roll her eyes, viciously stabbing a leaf of salad lettuce with her fork. "I tried to make Dad happy!" She snapped. "Even though he was against Matsuda in the first place!"

"Until he found out who'd asked to marry you," Light said evenly.

"Yes," she agreed, anger deflating while memories flashed behind her eyes. "Hachi was Prince Charming and I said no in a foolish attempt to appease our Father." Her eyes fell onto the table, fogging over with a self loathing Light rarely ever saw in the girl. Her cheek came to rest in her hand, elbow morosely propped atop the finely polished table. "That was a mistake, I was unhappy. And Hachirou shouldn't have taken me back."

Light sighed. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up, but he needed to know. As the older brother he needed to know that his sister was serious about the man she claimed to love. He needed to be sure she wouldn't waste her life on a man Light knew for a fact was more capricious and manipulative than he let on. There was no doubt in his mind that Hachirou loved his sister. But there was no guarantee the man wouldn't use her, abuse the childlike innocence she so desperately clung to the same way their Father had. And for that, Light had to know she was prepared.

"You give him too much credit."

Sayu laughed at that, though the sound was far from amused. "The same way people give you too much?"

He nodded, consenting to her bitter inquiry.

"I know who my fiancé is Onii-Chan, better than you do in fact. This is the man I've wondered across the globe with for the past five years. I may not be privy to everything he does, and has done, but I _know_." She stressed the last word, looking deeply into her elder sibling's eyes, beseeching him to just accept what she desired.

Strands of auburn fell over frowning eyes as Light ran a hand through his bangs, face contorting into a visage of acceptance. It wasn't what he'd truly wanted to hear, and it wasn't a life he'd ever wished upon his sister, but there would be no arguing with her about it anymore. Not now, not ever. Shaking his head at the determination loaded in her stance he finished his coffee. "In that case, I applaud you for going after what you want."

An elegant pair of eyebrows, identical to his own, rose in concern. "Haven't you done the same?"

"…in a way I suppose."

They were back to the concern. Smoothly, their waiter stepped in, halting the conversation for a minute as he cleared away the salad plates and empty espresso cups, quietly murmuring an indication that he'd bring out more. The moment the man departed Sayu leaned forward, intently staring her brother down. This was not something he wanted to discuss with her. He didn't even relish the idea of thinking about it. Oblivion was what he strived for, unfortunately, Sayu had other ideas.

"Onii-Chan?" the dark haired female tilted her head in concern and Light found himself damning her large, doe eyes. "What do you want?"

"…I'm not sure anymore," he said honestly. "For the first time since I got here I'm feeling doubt and I've no idea why."

Sayu's brows knit together tightly. "Maybe if I knew…"

"No!" Light's rebuke was automatic. "I'm not involving you in this anymore than is necessary."

"Well at least try to tell me why you're doubting yourself. That's not the Light Yagami I know!" she snapped, lips pursing together in thinly veiled unease. She had never seen her brother like this. The difference in him was slight, undetectable to anyone who hadn't grown up with him, but Sayu had seen it the moment she'd walked into the hotel room. She wasn't sure Light had been aware of the true state of his own depression in that moment, just laying on the couch, staring stonily at the ceiling. He'd looked tired, defeated, and he hadn't yelled about the fact that Sayu had her own key card to his hotel room. All of which had spelled out dejection. In the hours it had taken her to coral Light into the small, upscale resturant, the man had mellowed out from the rigidness she'd observed in him hours ago. But a hint of that unease was still there. His eyes were darker, heavier, as if Atlas had dumped all his problems right into them.

"You feel guilty," she concluded.

The waiter appeared again, bearing another tray of espresso, cookies the English insisted on calling biscuits but in all actuality _were_ cookies, and two bowls of soup. The scent of garlic and Sumatran coffee didn't mix well together; instead they waged war in tangles of steam over the circular table. However, despite the dish and beverage's incompatibility, Light was glad to see the food.

Gratefully accepting the new cup of caffeinated glory, Light diverted his eyes from his sister and traced patterns around the vegetables floating in the beef broth before him. He didn't say anything and that was enough for Sayu.

"_Why_?" she stressed, completely ignoring the food laid out in front of her (and to think she'd been the one complaining about hunger).

"I don't _know_," he groaned, eyes fluttering shut as if he were in pain. Which was a pretty apt description for the wringing sensation rotting throughout his mind. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Fuck, there was no reason for this. And yet, that little monster was still there, eating away at him, clawing apart his stomach and gnawing endlessly on his gut. It was inexplicable. And as cliché as it was to say, he'd really never felt like this before.

"You're feeling guilty because you think you've done something wrong then," Sayu supplied. "You're just like Dad in that regard, righteous to a fault, even when it's not actually your fault." She paused for a moment, lips pursed in thought. "And just like Dad you feel guiltiest when you think you've wronged someone."

"Perhaps," Light murmured into his cup. It wasn't an avenue of thought he was inclined to traipse though at the moment.

Sayu didn't seem to see it his way. "L?"

_Damnit_. Light internally winced. How the hell did the girl do that? Out of nothing more than an out of sorts expression she managed to pinpointed the exact cause of his duress. Though it didn't do much to help him. L was the cause. The reason, however, still remained elusive.

Sayu took a gulp of her own coffee, expression volleying back and forth between the concern she'd been wearing all day and utter confusion. She settled on confusion. "I don't understand Onii-chan."

"That makes two of us," the twenty year old scoffed.

"No, really, why the hell would you feel guilty about doing something to L?" Sayu gaped. "Given what I know of him the man's a right bastard."

"And what do you know of him?" Light questioned, dully snapping a breadstick in half and using it to swirl his soup around. He'd never been one to play with his food, but now seemed as good a time as any to start in on the bad habits. L did it all the time, stacking sugar cubes and talking with his mouth full. The man was one obnoxious hedgehog, completely unkempt and oblivious while simultaneously observing every last detail. Every ounce of Light's being revolted against the rude detective. Yet, here he was, indulging himself on a nice guilt trip, vacationing from his sanity.

Sayu leaned back in her chair, critically biting her lip. "I only know what Hatchi told me, so I suppose my opinion is somewhat biased. And then there's what's occasionally drudged up from the underground. But he's vicious, using any means necessary to capture, detain, and imprison. I remember Dad talking about him once, how he played a trick on one of the departments to weed out the officers that weren't dedicated to their job. L's an underhanded bastard."

"He's brilliant," Light said, abruptly bringing Sayu's attention back to him. "L is brilliant. And because of that he's dangerous."

"And because of that you respect him." Realization began to slowly build within Sayu's mind, but the girl was too puzzled to truly make use of it. "Respect doesn't mean you owe him anything though. You're working for him purely out of the goodness of your heart," she declared strongly.

_And a six figure, hourly salary, but that's not important._ Light thought caustically, leisurely sucking soup broth from his spoon. "I'm not working for L out of the goodness of my heart, as you so endearingly put it. You know that Sayu."

"Well I can't help you with that Light because you and Hachi refuse to tell me exactly what's going on. Not that I mind," She said quickly, silencing her brothers retort. "I understand your reasons. And either way, I think you like him."

Light sputtered, gulping to prevent soup from spraying everywhere. "_What?"_

She smirked, finally drawing a spark back into her brother's eyes. "Yeah, you like L. Which is why you feel like crap using him for this stupid crusade to cleanse the world of its impurities."

"Sayu, the man is insufferable. It takes every ounce of my self control not to punch him in the face every time he opens his mouth." L was a slouching mess of exasperating contradictions, whereas he was Light Yagami, pristine and collected. The only thing the two of them had in common was intelligence.

In his lifetime thus far there had only been one other person who'd ever made Light feel so completely out of his depth, submerged beneath some viscous liquid with an iron weight clamped around his ankles. And Light had thrived on it, devoured it, in the name of research he had submitted to it. L awakened some of that, those feelings, it was only a small portion, but L brought it out. And if the Detective could snag on just a thread, it was possible he'd be able to unfurl everything else. And that was something Light could not afford.

Sayu saw the dilemma in Light's eyes without him having to voice it. "You're both using each other, I think that makes liking each other more acceptable," the young woman concluded, idly munching on a piece of celery. "And last I thought, you enjoyed a challenge, so get over yourself and enjoy the man damnit."

3B

When the murderer returned to the ballroom he didn't mention the table, shattered in several pieces, or the door, decorating the hallway with tiny splinters of wood, or the two security guards Mello was playing poker with. Beyond didn't even acknowledge the teenager he'd kidnapped as he picked his chessboard out of the rubble, meticulously collecting the miscellaneous game pieces Mello had scattered across the floor in his determination to escape. B really didn't seem to give a fuck about his destroyed ballroom, though Mello wagered the new décor fitted B's taste better than the simple luxury The Langham had offered. Crouching before his caricature of a board game Beyond fiddled with the pieces, carefully assessing the position of the plastic gingerbread men he'd taken out of Candyland, setting them out to surround a white knight.

B had been sitting there, like that, for hours, and Mello was getting concerned. A pensive Beyond Birthday was a soon to be lethal Beyond Birthday. The point was proven fifteen minutes later when Mello's green eyed stare finally attracted B's attention. A small smile pulled at the corners of B's cheeks, dragging a shiver up the blonde teen's spine.

A pair of ruby eyes rose as the body they belonged to unfurled itself from its frog styled crouch, scarlet, tinted orbs never leaving Mello's face. Stalking towards the slaughtered ballroom entryway B's gaze stayed fixed on Mello, the man's neck craning at an inhumane angle in order to maintain eye contact. The contortion made it seem as if Beyond had no fucking spine. A gulp of oxygen thrust itself down Mello's throat while B lazily sauntered out the room, yet Mello felt like he was being watched through the walls.

"Get out," the blonde whispered, shooting a meaningful look of unabridged apprehension at his two idiots.

Number Two shook his head. "We're not leaving you alone with that man."

The two security guards were staring at the youth, but Mello's attention was back on the door, awaiting B's unquestionable return. "Get out."

"Kid - "

"No," Mello snapped. His mouth had thinned into a stern line, lips barely discernable from his facial skin. These men had yet to officially meet Beyond and Mello was damn sure going to keep it that way. He needed them functional, not committed. "Get out or I will shatter your knee caps."

Number Two moved to protest but Number One decided to compromise. Mello had already pegged him as the more sensible of his two. "We'll leave, but we're staying on this floor," Number One said. "If he tries to kill you scream and we'll evacuate the staff as best we can."

"Oh, why not just pull the fire alarm then!" Mello exclaimed.

"He disabled it," Number Two cut in. "Screaming for people to get out of the building _is_ our new fire alarm."

A disbelieving glare fell onto the two idiots, Mello's mind not quite registering the lack of neurons the two security guards possessed. "The hotel is laced with C4," he said calmly. "Evacuate and everything goes boom." Identical expressions of shock blinked back at Mello but he didn't leave them a chance to respond. "Now, if you would kindly leave, I'd greatly appreciate not having to live in a blood splattered ballroom."

"You're so calm," remarked Number One in awe.

Mello could practically hear his words of warning rushing over the man's head.

"You saw what he did to the manager and yet… you're calm."

"Correction," Mello interrupted. "I look calm. Inside, not so much. Now quit staling and leave!"

There was hesitation, blatant and obnoxious, in the way the two backed off, leaving Mello to juggle 52 plastic cards between his fingers. But they left, departing in a stringent silence polluted with warning and damned hesitation.

"Aww… tweedleedum and tweedleedee not agreeing to have a battle?" The childish voice rained over the twinkling chandeliers not two minutes later. There was no way Beyond hadn't seen the guards leave the ballroom, but Mello was more than inclined to believe they hadn't seen him.

"A monstrous crow flew down, they were afraid of getting their eyes pecked out."

B cocked his head, the jerking motion jarring the maniacal grin stretched across his face. "You know the rhyme."

"English was the one subject I was always better than Near at," Mello admitted, taking careful note of the small, plastic, floral print bag Beyond clutched in his hand. "That and tactical assault. He was always too busy calculating the potential fallout of different strategies to just get off his ass and move. Funnily enough though, he wiped the floor with everyone in short range combat. I guess to him there was only one possible outcome to holding a gun in someone's face and firing."

"That's probably why he's number one and you're number two."

"Because he can kill someone without a second thought?" Mello bit out, scooting backwards as B took a seat in front of him. The side of a card clipped the pad of his thumb and he shuffled the deck, a thin line of red marring the pink skin. "That's not exactly a characteristic I'm comfortable with the most powerful man in law enforcement having."

B laughed, eyes shining in amusement and fondness as he looked at Mello. "Oh my Little Dear, that's a characteristic L must always possess. Otherwise, what would he do when faced against people like me?"

"I highly doubt he'd shoot you in the head," Mello answered. If only he was one hundred percent certain with his answer, but lately his faith in L had been waning. And like any other animal, B sensed the coming fear.

"Why?" the murderer baited, nonchalantly unzipping his brightly colored bag, fingers diving into the contents.

Mello shuffled his deck of cards, watching the red, black, and white pieces of plastic merge into a fluttering, grey blur. "Because he'd want you alive."

B paused in his rummaging, lips pursing, waiting for Mello to continue.

"The minor criminals he catches, organized crime units, terrorists, they get sentenced appropriately. L testifies against them in court and they get sent to prison." A red nine of hearts skillfully flipped through Mello's fingers. "The higher scale cases on the other hand, those that take longer than a week to solve, those criminals get the Death Penalty. No trial, no question, just a short drop and a sudden stop. Then there are the others…" Mello's eyes narrowed, not on B or his cards, but the thought he was currently turning over in his mind. The cards were dropped to the side and a chocolate bar materialized from the pocket of the blonde's jeans. "The cases the public doesn't hear about L getting involved in, the crimes he thrives on, invests in, you never hear about what happens to those criminals once caught."

"And I fall into that category?" B asked cordially, a dainty smile that didn't quite fit on his face turning his pale lips upward.

"You do now." A piece of chocolate was snapped from the bar, wrapper crinkling as Mello chewed slowly.

Laughter ran from Beyond's throat, deep and just as smooth as the confection Mello ate. "I am flattered you think so Little Dear," B said, carefully pulling out a series of small vials, each with a long black cap, from the floral bag and setting them in a neat little line between him and Mello. They were nail polishes, at least fifteen different colors standing on the marble floor.

"Pick a color," Beyond instructed once the last color was set on the floor.

"What?" Mello gawked, not entirely comprehending what he was being asked to do.

B sighed, as if praying for patience, but the action was over exaggerated. "Pick a _color_, I'm going to paint your _nails_."

Mello stared at the mass murderer for a moment, chocolate hanging from his lips in creeped out disbelief. "Like bloody hell you are."

"Yes well, I imagine Hell to be quite a bloody place indeed, so it's nice to see we're in some agreement about this. Now pick a _color_." B hissed dangerously, daring the boy to refute the command. "If you're having trouble selecting something that may be complimentary to your skin tone, might I suggest Brisbrane Bronze?" he said, calmly selecting a bottle of dark brown paint, his narrowed eyes smoothly transforming into the wide, childish gaze Mello saw him dawn most of the time. Not that the façade would fool the teen, the man was a murderer and Mello would never allow himself to forget that fact.

Sweeping his eyes over the selection of polish, Mello's gaze paused over a startling shade of bright pink. B caught the movement and fluidly scooped up the lacquer.

"You're a Pisa of Work," he stated blandly. "Not a bad choice. It suites you."

A scowl etched itself firmly over Mello's face, but he shoved the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth and held out his hand, obediently waiting for Beyond to begin his newest for of psychological warfare.

The pink was bright, so much so that even clashed with the black top containing it in the glass tube. It was a violent color, commanding attention, making a statement. It was also the same color Mello remembered Matt's hair being, though secretly he prayed the gamer had dyed it back to his customary red. But the pink was Matt in a nutshell, as had been proven on multiple accounts. It was bold, yet easy to underestimate. Mello realized he was putting a little too much stock into the simple color, connotations be damned. It just wasn't healthy to compare his best friend to a bottle of nail polish. But it was comforting all the same and Mello couldn't help the guilt bubbling in his throat. He hadn't thought about Matty in awhile, too concerned with everything else, too concerned with himself to contemplate the effect his disappearance was having on his best friend. So he chose the pink. Commemoration and a vain reminder.

The cool liquid spread over the protein of Mello's chipped nails, filling in the imperfections and adding a bright gloss to the usually dull nail. B's hand was steady as he dipped the brush into the paint and carefully applied it to Mello's finger tips.

"L kept his involvement in the LABB Case secret," the murderer said conversationally.

Mello's chin rested in his hand while his elbow was propped on his knee. "Yeah." He didn't know where the murderer was going with this conversation now. He never did.

"I remember LA pretty well." Beyond had finished Mello's thumb nail and moved onto the boy's pointer finger. "It was a blur, but an identifiable one. You know what I remember most?"

"The sound of your flesh cooking to a medium rare?" Mello deadpanned.

B paused in his manicure, a reminiscing expression of glee twinkling over his face. The expression sent chills through Mello's veins but he refused to shiver. "No, although that was a highlight. What I remember is drugging the individuals I killed. They wouldn't feel anything that way, not really… I tried to make them comfortable before I killed them and it wasn't a lot of fun."

"It was rather counterproductive if you ask me," Mello remarked, fighting to wrench his hand from Beyond's grip. His mind kept telling him to move, to run, there was no way this conversation would be seeing a happy ending, yet he fought to stay seated, having his nails painted pink by a serial killer. "I saw the reports, pictures, humane you are defiantly not Uzhas. Yet, the victims probably didn't feel a thing."

"It's easier if they don't struggle," B commented, focused on his nail work. "You don't bite your nails," he observed, hoisting Mello's pale appendage higher in the air and keeling over it so his nose was grazing the knuckle. "But you need to cut them more; they seem to keep breaking due to length."

"Yes, well, this way when you finally decide to off me you'll have a painful struggle on your hands as I try to gorge your eyes out."

Beyond continued to stare at Mello's finger nails, the teen helplessly caught, internally floundering, under the intensity of B's scrutiny. Hot breath ghosted over Mello's skin, the puffs of warmth wrapping his palm in a thin layer of sweat. His think fingers were dwarfed by Beyond's large hands, effectively caging Mello's arm in their spidery grip. He was letting the murderer too close. Far too close…

"How would you kill someone?" B asked suddenly, tearing his eyes from Mello's hand. The movement caused the miniature paint brush to slip, drawing a thin line of pink down Mello's finger. "And tell me why you'd do it that way," B murmured, watching the paint dribble slowly towards the teenager's knuckle. Mello had the faint impression B wasn't picturing the liquid as paint. A curious expression turned over B's face and, unexpectedly, the murderer brought Mello's hand to his lips, kissing the back of the appendage. Red eyes suddenly fixed themselves over Mello's face, the ghostly orbs just daring the blonde to protest. Beyond's lips parted and a long tongue darted out, tasting the pale flesh.

The action was hypnotic. Mello stared, unable to turn away as Beyond's tongue leisurely moved over the nail polish that had spread across his skin. The pink paint smeared, mixing with the salvia from B's mouth. Skillfully Beyond moved his tongue over the back of Mello's hand. He paused briefly to press a deep kiss to the teen's knuckle before continuing to lick his way up Mello's finger. Green eyes widened as Mello realized just what Beyond was about to do, but before he could wrench his hand away from the murderer's face, B deposited the length of Mello's finger into his mouth, slowly sucking the ethyl acetate off of the white skin.

Mello's breath came faster, catching in his chest. This was… unexpected. No, no, no, not unexpected this was... thrilling. And that was wrong. Oh so _fucking_ wrong. Beyond Birthday was lapping a pink carcinogen off of his finger and it made him delirious.

Where the fuck had any of this come from?

The man's tongue was skillful, warm, and oh so bloody hot. The muscle moved forcefully, wrapping itself around Mello's finger and drawing the slim appendage further into B's mouth. How was the man not gagging, Mello wondered as that adroit tongue elicited another gasp from his mouth. The sensation, the warmth of B's mouth, it radiated excitedly down Mello's arm, lulling his brain into a thick haze of disjointed thought.

He needed to pull away. Pull far away. But he just stared, lips parted, mouth drying as slow gasps of air filtered past his lips.

B sucked harder.

Suddenly Mello was on his back, Beyond's body stretching over his, pressing down against the slender teenager. Smirking B raised his head, lips trailing in a tight pout off of Mello's finger. "You have a dark side Little Dear, this is I know very well." An unfamiliar expression fell into Beyond's dark, red eyes. The taunting, heated quirk of B's lips sent tendrils of charred pleasure over Mello's skin. It was suggestive, as if the murderer wasn't profane enough. "Let it out Little Dear," B whispered, demanded as he hung over the blonde, pinning him to the floor. "Tell me how you'd murder. You know you're not alone with that desire. Every human has this fantasy, the blood saturating their skin, staining their clothes, abandoning all sanity and fully embracing that warm, dark area of the mind they'd normally ignore." Beyond's forehead came to rest against Mello's, blood, red orbs alight and shining into the teen's lost, green gaze. The nail polish lay forgotten on the floor. "Tell me your fantasy Little Dear."

His senses were in overdrive. Beyond's words moved through his ears loudly, accompanied by the spinning heat of the older man's body. He couldn't move, but god could he feel. The sensations were everywhere, as if his nerves were drugged, forced to experience the brush of ever clothing fiber, every breath, every touch of foreign skin brought against them. To feel so much at the hands of Beyond, it was frustrating. More so because nothing was happening.

Yet, despite the surprise and unease filtering through Mello's skin, the boy could think. Through the cloud of confusion and raw sensation Mello saw his thoughts brilliantly. And maybe it was because the question was a simple one, something he'd already contemplated. What sane person didn't ever ask themselves that question How would he kill? Efficiently, effectively, he'd kill dispassionately. That was the ideal, and it made the answer to Beyond's question easy.

"I wouldn't kill anyone," Mello said, tracing the contours of B's face, avoiding eye contact. "I'd hire a hit man."

B chuckled, pushing himself backwards, off of the teen's chest, but still straddling the boy's hips. "And how would they kill the victim?" B inquired lightly, allowing Mello to prop himself up on his elbows, shaking tangled, blonde locks from his face. The boy would need a hair cut soon…

"I'd leave it up to them to decide," Mello answered smoothly. "They'd be professionals after all, my only requirement is swiftness."

B nodded, tapping his finger against his lips in thought. "Would there be pain?"

"What?"

"Would the victim feel pain?" B reiterated, gazing intently on Mello's face. "Think about it Little Dear, this is very important."

Mello's eyes narrowed to slits, but he mulled the question over. "Yes," Mello stated finally, minutes later, the syllable coming slowly over his tongue. "They'd need to feel pain."

"Good." B smiled in approval. "You realize my mistake then."

"Your mistake?"

"In the beginning," B announced as if it were obvious, "when I stole the pain from my victims. I eased them into their deaths. I shouldn't have done that. People need to feel pain when they die. Otherwise, how else will they know they've lived?"

Mello turned to the side, a cascade of loose hair falling over his face as he stared at the floor. Did he agree with that? Would he agree with that? The blonde cast his eyes over the floor, searching through the pattern of marble for some answer, some way out of Beyond's maze of sanity. Because it all made sense. Every word, it all clicked in Mello's mind, the simplicity of it was startling, which made everything all the more upsetting. Mello glanced down at his hand abruptly, the faint wetness of B's slyva still lingering over his phalange.

Three pink nails smiled brightly up at him and the blonde nearly hurled. The phantom of Beyond's body still hovered over him, the warmth now centered on the area B occupied over his legs, but the spirit of the sensations were still there. The physical excitement, Mello didn't have enough experience to properly place it, but reveling in the after effects, B smiling at him serenely, the teen fought back the urge to shudder. Things shouldn't have looked like that, so crystalline, sharp with a stinging clarity. Not with Beyond, the sick, twisted murderer as the one who made the advances. He was better than that.

He'd been taught better than that. And yet, look how easily he had fallen.

B smirked, feeling the self loathing practically ooze from the child, and he leaned forward, effectively capturing Mello in his grasp. "What's the last thing someone feels when they die Little Dear?"

Mello shut his eyes, squeezing the image of Beyond from his retinas. But he could still feel the man, pressed flesh against him, body heat pulsing against Mello's skin, fingers digging into his arms. Thick, black hair tickled against the blonde's cheek as B's lips brushed intimately against Mello's ear lobe, releasing a think whisper into the air.

"_Regret." _

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A/N: We've passed the half way point. I'm expecting there to be twenty chapters total, so the countdown begins.

Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted, and faved this fic. When I started this I in no way expected this kind of feedback from you guys, so thank you! It really means a lot to me.

FOR ANYONE WHO WANTS INFO ON THE MAIN CHARACTERS READ THE REVIEW RESPONSES HERE:

Maddie: Honestly, the original two main characters here were BB and Light. However, I changed it because I felt we'd be seeing more of L than B, which (given this chapter and all that's coming) I still feel is true. We're heading into a lot more L, Light interaction; things just took some time because they only just met. It's the nature of the AU I suppose. But thank you for your input, I understand where you're coming from, and really, if I could label this under more than one character, we'd be seeing the tag "Light/L/BB/Mello."

Sango: You and everybody else are vying for some BB/Mello. However, B likes to play with his food. He did it with Light (which you guys have seen) and now he's doing it with Mello. Remember, good things come to those who wait. ; )

To the both of you, thanks for reading and sharing your comments, they're truly helpful (as is everyone who reviews)!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I'm not making any money off of this work.

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Chapter 14

Pink skin decorated the flesh surrounding his neck.

"_What brand has he left on you?" _

L's words expanded over Light's mind as he stared in the mirror. A towel hung low around his hips while droplets of water clung to the tips of his hair, desperate not to fall to the floor. The bathroom was warm, filled with the fog of scalding water, though the shower had been off for a few minutes already. The room was stifling. Yet Light felt chilled, frost crystals spreading over his insides and rejecting the heat of the room.

The skin surrounding the jagged scar was tan, smooth, a contrast to the rugged pucker of the injury's milky, pink tone. Hesitantly, Light ran his fingers over the damaged skin, flashes of pain, screams, and the blunt force of B's whisper raping his ear shot through his mind as his fingers traced over the healed gore. Memories attached to ugly imperfection.

No matter how much the scar healed - countless layers of new skin growing over each other, reconnecting the severed tissues - no matter the maintenance, the attempts to obscure the blemish, the mark would never fully fade. It still hung there, polluting the rest of his flawless skin with its marred appearance. It nestled itself nicely beneath the collar of his shirt, cowering from the daylight. Even in the dead of the night, the mark would hide amongst the shadows, blending in. No one ever knew it was there unless they felt it through the darkness, touched it with their own hands.

Only in the mirror, when the lighting was brighter than a searching spotlight, could Light clearly see the scar Beyond had left behind.

It was a scar that would never heal, a mark that wouldn't fade. A brand he could hide, but never ignore.

3B

He'd acted unreasonable. Breaking and entering into Light Yagami's hotel room, physically assaulting him, yelling at him, L knew he'd crossed a line. But knowing Beyond had been that close, and seeing him get away. It struck a chord on L's pride the detective just wasn't used to. It struck a chord and snapped the string, lamb intestines zinging backwards in a rapid curl, whipping against L's mind in a painful lash of failure. L did not tolerate failure. Failure was unacceptable. Yet, when it came to Beyond Birthday, failure seemed to be crawling all over the place.

He'd failed the boy while he was at Wammy's. Every child that walked though the threshold of Wammy's House's large, ornate oak doors he had failed. But that was a matter of safety, L reasoned. The kid's safety more than his own. If he never visited them, if he never saw them, then they couldn't be traced through him. Those children where his legacy. Not to say he ignored the school full of prodigies completely, that would be idiotic. There had been moments of contact though the Gothic Computer Letterhead every now and then, question and answer sessions, relaying information, and of course the yearly announcement of his top five candidates.

Bur for one child, that hadn't been enough.

Like all children, Beyond required attention, _constant _attention, _L's _constant attention. But L had denied him and B hadn't taken the rejection too well.

Contrary to popular belief, L was not an emotionless automaton. In fact, he thrived off his feelings, his passion. Without his emotions, which were so intrinsically tied to his gut instinct, L wouldn't be as successful as he was. Unlike the rest of humanity however, L controlled his emotions, he didn't let them control him.

Or so he'd thought.

The equation was simple when Beyond had been the sole variable. That was when the equation had been nothing more and a simple Y equals M times X plus Beyond. Now there was a Light Yagami in the computation, completely screwing the calculations over without so much as a by your leave, presenting a giant, winding theorem of mixed astrophysics and biochemistry. Never mind that L had a doctorate in both fields, it was the time investment that bothered him. And the feelings. There wasn't a letter in the alphabet that could adequately represent those in any equation, be it scientific or mathematical.

Emotions were easy when the equations were simple, when all there was was a burning drive, a fervent desire to capture, apprehend, defeat, a thirst to _win_. Channeling everything towards one goal was how he functioned. His modus operandi. There had never been anything other than the case, because that was always the next question. What's the next case? What crimes occurred today? What new terrorist plot had the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam hatched this week? L had always been focused on the crime. So what the fuck was he supposed to do when something new moved into the picture?

Something intelligent, charismatic, an individual with a sense of justice that pointed more that North, it pointed straight towards the fucking clouds. It was problematic in L's eyes, especially when coupled with an IQ exceeding the two hundreds, it was a recipe for vigilantism.

…and perhaps something a little more intimate.

No.

That was bad, that was unprofessional. The odd twisting in his stomach, the clenching sensation that flew through his throat whenever he so much as thought about the younger male, it was bad. Negative. Dangerous. Wildly unprofessional. Sadly, L's libido didn't seem to share the same sentiments. The Detective was now fairly certain that the connection between his brain and (previously inactive) sexuality had been severed, possibly due to some form of head trauma he had forgotten as a result of amnesia. He'd need to have Watari schedule a CAT Scan to check for brain damage.

Such was the only viable explination L was willing to accept in order to explain his current_… predicament_. Mainly the tightening of his pants every time he saw Light Yagami. He was the greatest detective in the world and he would not fall victim to the wit, charm, and unnecessary attractiveness of the man currently under his employment.

There had to be a chunk of his frontal lobe missing because this was wrong. This was unprofessional. This was _bad_.

The words, trite and mundane, circled around L's head like tea cups at Disney Land, a whirlwind of irritating thrill. The thoughts were taunting, exciting portions of L's mind that had been collecting dust for years. It was these parts of L's psyche that ignited in anticipation as a ping came onto the computer screen, alerting the Detective to an incoming call from one certain Asian.

A twinge went through L's lower half and he cursed at the screen.

Yes, he was screwed.

"I was supposed to call you," L said, blankly switching on his headset.

"Yeah well you took too long," Light Yagami snapped, the tone of his voice causing a brief flare of defiance to run down L's face.

"Oh, was Light sitting by the phone all night waiting for me to call?" L chirped sweetly. Mocking was good, a ruffled Light Yagami was one he'd be less inclined to engage in phone sex with. And it gave L a sense of control, something he'd been greatly lacking in these past few days. At least by his standards.

A sigh huffed slowly through L's receiver. "Yes, I was here all by myself, alone, waiting for your _deep,_ _sensual, voice_ to come across the line. Oh L, I've just been missing you _so deeply_… "

L blinked. That was just unfair. "I do not appreciate your lack of professionalism Mr. Yagami." _And yes, I am a hypocrite_, L added in thought, scowling despite the tiny amount of amusement that tugged at the corner of his brain.

"Oh, I'm the unprofessional one?" Light snapped, quickly abandoning the faux sex kitten tone. "You're pouting over the fact that I called you first and I'm unprofessional?"

L's scowl transformed back into his trademark look of blasé innocence, knowing the expression would further Light's irritation if only the boy could see it. "As your employer I have every right to dictate who will be calling who."

"That is ridiculous L!" Light exclaimed loudly, just barely keeping himself from shouting over the phone. "And this not what I called you to talk about!"

L's head tilted curiously. Clearly there was something bothering Light. L could hear it in the slight pitch of the Yagami youth's voice, it was higher than usual, frayed, if only slightly. The man was doing a good job of hiding his discontent, but L could hear it. And honestly, he didn't much care for it.

"No," L agreed, smirking into his microphone. "You called to hear my deep, sensual voice. Is it not pleasing you?"

Silence came over the line and L claimed his victory.

"…god you are such a child…"

L perked up, mentally congratulating himself as Light's more common tone of exasperation fell over the line and selected a cookie from the plate Watari had brought out for him minutes earlier. "I rather think I'm very mature for my age actually," L replied while nibbling on the frosting coated dough. "Now, seeing as how I already have you on the line why don't you do what I hired you to do and ha -"

"I already did," Light interrupted smoothly.

L froze at the interruption, staring at the computer screen over wafts of pink frosting. He honestly didn't know whether to feel rejoiced or annoyed. He was so used to having to tell people what to do that when someone did something of their own accord, and they did it _right_, L was flummoxed. His faith in the human race was less than stellar, but considering his line of work, who could blame him.

"You hacked the police database?" L questioned rather curtly.

Light seemed to sense the Detective's surprise as a small chuckle filtered through the connection. "Yes, that's why I called you. The police have already cleaned up the entire crime scene; reports have labeled the death as a murder made to look like a suicide."

"Send me to reports," L demanded. "I refuse to look through tampered police documents again."

"Still annoyed about that?"

"You wasted my time," The detective deadpanned.

"And made a point. Either way, I just sent the reports over to you. Cross my heart I left them exactly as I found them."

Licking remnants of frosting from his finger tips L ignored the taunt and opened his email, brining the reports onto the multiple computer screens that hung before him. "I'm surprised they recorded it as a murder, normally if someone hangs themselves its automatically termed a suicide and no further investigation occurs."

Light nodded from his end of the line. "Yeah, I thought so too. But then again, B was rather obvious about things."

L's eyes narrowed as he read over the details, one in particular sticking out. "They only dusted the gun for prints."

"Did you expect them to do anything else with it?" Light asked pointedly.

"Well they could have shot themselves, they'd certainly be doing the world a favor," L commented brusquely, opening up an attachment that showed a picture of the firearm they'd found in the woman's hand.

Smooth laughter, different from the biting chuckle Light usually displayed, caught L off guard. The sound reminded him of caramel and coffee, like everything else about Light. It was down to earth yet tinged with the sweetness of a gourmet candy. And L found that the sound was causing a certain… reaction… to occur somewhere beneath his waist line. Silently L thanked the gods for baggy jeans.

Gaining controlling his mirth, Light finally spoke. "They're not _all_ incompetent L."

"Light is only saying that because his father is a police man," L grumbled. "Therefore his opinion is biased. However, at the very least, they could have taken the gun apart."

"They're waiting for the prints to run," Light explained. "Not that they'll find anything other than the victim's on there, but still, unlike you they actually follow an orderly protocol."

L ignored the jab. He was efficient, who cared if his mind tended to jump around, the connections he made between thoughts were logical to him and that was all that mattered.

His thumb nail found its way between his teeth and L began to think, leaving Light to listen to the silence of L's thoughts. The gun was important. L already had images of the body, a coroner's report, and crime scene pictures. Compared to the damage B had inflicted on his victims last time around, the scene was relatively tame. Not even a drop of blood. Which left the gun.

The gun was the clue, the focal point of B's entire production. Why else would it be there? The victim was hung, the bruising around the neck and the abrasions littered over the victim's chin pointed towards strangulation. The coroner even stated the woman had died of asphyxiation. Though there appeared to be a series of scratches running down the length if the deceased's throat. L glanced over the photos filed with the report, zooming in on the victim's hands. The nails were tattered, once a long violent shade of purple, they were now chipped, decorating the woman's blue tinged fingers. She had struggled, L concluded, making careful note of the rope burns that curled around the victim's hand. Looking back at the photo of the neck, L's mind highlighted the deep red gashes on the victim's throat and placed their cause as the victim's own finger nails.

"L?" Light's voice carefully turned the Detective's attention back to their conversation. "Was the kid Beyond kidnapped blonde?"

L paused, the question seemingly random. "Why do you need to know?"

"The victim's hair," the younger male pointed out. "It's not naturally blonde. It was dyed, and samples of the victim's scalp tissue say it was done postmortem. Why would Beyond dye the girl's hair?"

The color of Mello's hair wasn't incredibly important, and given that nearly two percent of the world's population possessed blonde locks, it would do little to betray Wammy's House to Light. But L still had to marvel at the other man's brilliance. "Tell me what you're thinking," L demanded, leaning forward in anticipation. It was perhaps these moments where he was most attracted to Light.

The man was fishing for clues to L's identity.

"Rei wasn't a natural blonde either," Light commented. "She dyed it for Sayu's wedding actually. But honestly, the fact didn't stand out to me when she was murdered. This last killing, it's ripe with patterns, one of which is the blonde hair. Most serial killer's victims all share a commonality. In LA B killed people whose names were alliterations, much like his own. These two victims though, they have nothing in common. So it seems Beyond gave them a commonality, a trait they could share. Blonde hair. To force the pattern however, deliberately manipulate the dead body, eight times out of ten the killer's sending a message that way. Beyond's applying the noticeable characteristic of the child he kidnapped to those he's murdering, reminding you that he still has this child and he's going to kill them."

The thought was a grim one, but the truth of it was there. Mello was blonde, as were the victims. It was almost elementary in its simplicity, but that's what made the message so prominent. It was designed to hit like a wrecking ball, filled with dynamite and set to explode a second after the pain of having your bones crushed, pulverized your mind. The anger L felt, however, contained ten times the volatile power.

On some level he was blaming himself. But that was a level he'd buried deep into the core of his emotional being. Those were feelings that could only seep out from between the tight bars of their confines. Self loathing was something left to the darkness of a solitary bedroom, when L was alone without even the comfort of a flickering computer screen to ease the guilt. On the surface, in the here and now, he was mentally shredding Beyond Birthday to pieces. The man was audacious, a plague of arbitrary violence and hidden meanings that drove a spike straight through L's capacity for reasonable thought.

He was the best detective in the world. He never solved a case twice. He never lost a criminal. He'd never risk one of his kids.

L took a breath, his sudden silence no doubt spurring the sharpened cogs of Light's brain into action. Reaching for another cookie L channeled the loss, the anger, and the tiniest bit of guilt into his next statement. "They don't mention the girl's clothing."

Light didn't miss a beat. "Clothing is usually bagged and examined separately, the report is still pending."

Pink frosting and pure sugar were lost to the deep hole that was L's mouth. "Did they not find anything in them?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

There was nothing ordinary about the case though and L couldn't help the nagging feeling stretching through his gut. "What was she wearing?"

"A tee-shirt, jeans, and a pair of heels. All designer."

_Just like you,_ L thought absently, one side of his brain focusing on the details of the case while the other half wondered off with abandon. The only thing L had ever seen Light in was designer, where the label stitched into the collar more expensive than the suit itself. And if he recalled correctly, Light slept in designer sheets, silk pooling over his…

_And now we're going to stop there… _Although the Detective had to admit, Light made for a wonderful distraction from the anger, annoyance, and sheer confusion Beyond had been flinging at them.

A loud banging suddenly rocked through the hotel room and L swore he saw the TV monitors shake as Matt barged into the room. Adroitly the screen displaying L's phone line flickered to black and L spun to face his successors. Three boxes were teetered precariously in the pink haired teen's arms, blocking the sounds of mutinous grumbling and a rainbow of language. Near followed after Matt; he too carried a load of large, baby blue boxes, though the petite boy was more dignified in his entrance than his predecessor had been.

L winced as Matt practically threw the boxes onto the table. Shifting his keyboard and microphone aside L muted the conversation with Light, keeping the other man on the line so he could listen but not comment. The move was bound to drive the uncompromising man batty. Pushing the slightly vindictive thoughts aside, L pulled one of the large boxes towards him. His toes were twitching in excitement, for the scents of chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet, all tousled together and emitting fresh warmth, could only mean one thing.

_Cupcakes._

L's eyes lit up as he opened the Trophy Cupcake box, hand diving forward and gently extracting a small, chocolate cake from within, careful not to disturb the mound of glittering, butter cream frosting that had so generously been whipped atop the baked good. For a cupcake, it was rather large, and L handled the sweet as if it were a newborn baby.

"You know they do catering?" Matt fumed. "As in you can order and they'll deliver?"

Actually, L hadn't known that. All he knew was that he'd booked the hotel he now occupied after discovering the existence of a cupcake shop less than a block from the resort's front entrance. He'd eaten Watari's last cake after returning from Light's own hotel room and so had declared a state of emergency. Cupcake retrieval had fallen to Matt and Near.

"I don't smell cinnamon," L commented, sniffing the air in a vain attempt to pick up the elusive scent.

"They only sell the Snikerdoodle cupcake on Fridays," Near said flatly. Already the boy was placing himself in his chosen corner, pulling the Transformers themed backpack off his shoulders and taking a set of green army men out of its pockets.

The Detective deflated slightly, pouting as he lovingly pulled the paper liner from his cake. "Oh, I was rather looking forward to trying that flavor."

Matt could only stare, once more not even daring to believe this was the man he'd looked up to as a child. There's been a time he'd considered L to be cool. Back when his mind had painted the elder genius as an enigma from the shadows, dressed like Sherlock Holmes and smoking illicit substances. This version of L, with cupcakes and sprinkles and cookies, this was _so_ not cool.

L swiped his finger over the top of his cupcake, covering the thin appendage in frosting and an obscene amount of sprinkles. Noticing Matt's stare, L shoved his hand in the teen's face. "Would you like a lick?"

_Dear god I hope he's just fucking with me_. Matt's lips parted, but no sound came out. Not that his response would have been intelligible.

The Detective took the boy's stringing silence as a no and placed his finger into his own mouth, wide eyed stare still fixed on Matt. "If you're not going to eat a cupcake than you should get to work, like Near."

Matt glanced over at the white haired kid stretched out in the corner of the room on his stomach, sockless feet kicking through the air while an armada of army men marched before his face. He turned back to L but the raven haired man was already locked into his computer screens.

Rolling his eyes, Matt settled onto the couch, crossing his legs and switching on his laptop. Immediately L's emails assaulted the screen, popping across the monitor like large bubbles filled with gore and horrific detail.

"You got access to the case files?" Matt glimpsed up at the back of L's head.

"Yes," L returned, beginning to demolish another cupcake. "I'd like you to review the images of the body, tell me what sticks out most to you."

Matt complied with the demand easily, pulling up the numerous images, from the Police files and comparing them with those that had been taken at the actual crime scene. Unhurriedly removing chocolate frosting from his the top of his cupcake with his tongue, L swiveled around in his chair and carefully appraised the boy. The photographs were already seared into the Detective's memory, now he just needed someone to bounce ideas off of. Seeing as Light wasn't in a position to readily respond to L's theories, which, L hated to admit, was the ideal scenario, he'd settle for seeing how well his potential successor kept up.

The jerking of Matt's head snared L's eyes and the Detective tilted his head, awaiting input.

"The same impressions were made on the first victim…" Matt pulled up the first case file, placing the image of victim one's back alongside victim two's. "It's the same imprint, it's the same weapon." He glanced up for confirmation and L nodded.

"The same impressions were made on the first victim," L stated dully. "At first I thought it was just B's way of telling me it really was him killing these people. He'd done something similar in LA."

Serial Killers were painfully redundant in L's opinion. But for Beyond to keep applying the same tricks over and over again, L thought it strange. The murderer had already thrown a note through Near's bedroom window, the paper essentially screaming "Look at me, I'm Beyond Birthday!" Then he signed the note left at the first crime scene with a gothic B, after which, the same initial had been left on the backs of the first and second victims. There seemed to be very little thought behind the actions, and what thoughts there was were haphazard. It was all nonsensical. There had to be a reason behind it, Beyond always had a reason. He always had a plan.

Beyond fancied himself an architect. He didn't just commit crimes, he orchestrated them. He planned out every insignificant detail of the act. Taking a meticulous amount of time stringing the web together, catching the fly he already decided on two weeks prior and making the sweetest jam out of that poor sod. It was a work of art to him, and he savored it, drew it out and persevered the moment, enjoying it to its fullest.

"And what about now?" Matt prompted.

"Now I'm not so sure." L drew his knees closer to his chest, resting his chin on his jean clad kneecaps. "There's no reason for him to do this twice considering we know that it's him killing these people." _As we have all along…_

So what was the point of all the fucking Bs? On the letter, on the crown, on the bodies of his victims. It was like the unsolvable riddle left behind by The Riddler, one Batman put so much effort into he didn't even notice when the purple masked man stole the moon.

Or maybe that was it… Needle in a haystack. The Bs were a distraction, the sheer number of them all jumbled together, it was designed to pull L away from the real point of everything. So what was that? And what Bs did L have to follow to understand the truth?

Quickly, L scooped his cell phone from the table and began punching buttons.

"**I find it interesting the bruise wasn't in your forensic report." **The text bleeped off the screen and L snapped the phone shut.

Light had only mentioned the pattern in passing earlier. He'd been more intent on the significance of Mello's hair color. Which, to L, really wasn't too significant. He'd known the meaning of that from the start, hence he hadn't thought about it. _So was Light trying to draw my attention from the bruises? Or was he pulling me from the gun?_ _Though there is no possibly way Light could have deduced I was thinking about the gun, unless of course he hacked into my computer…_

Paranoia had L turning from his successors and back to his monitors, pulling the wireless keyboard into his lap. He ran scans over every file on the hard drive, searching for crumpled traces of code, remnants of any type of hack. But there was nothing there. Not any trace of prying eyes.

The cell phone buzzed in L's hands and he flipped it open.

Light's reply flashed over the screen. **"I figured you'd notice it on your own and that it was simply B marking his kill**."

L'd been expecting a response along those lines. He just hated how innocent Light sounded. Snapping the phone shut L returned to his conversation with Matt. "I have been looking into what could have caused the impressions on our victim's backs while you two were looking into the carpet fiber, but so far my list of potential weapons is still too broad. It's hardly a subject to broach if I have no weapon. Without the weapon those marks are meaningless."

"And it didn't occur to you to ask for help?" Matt glanced at L over the top of his laptop, watching the Detective devour another cupcake.

"I agree with Matt," said Near, though his focus was still on the army men. "Clearly the bruises are of some significance, you should have shared the information with us."

L glanced down at his hands, the communication device vibrating happily in his palm.

"**You're not very good at working with other people are you?" **

Fighting the urge to scowl L furiously typed a response with minimal pouting**. "I've worked with people before!"**

To his successors he informed, "I'd already had Watari compare it to any tool associated with fibers and carpentry, he came up with nothing."

Light, however, wasted no time in sending another barb at L, payback for being cut from the conversation at large. **"There's a difference between ordering people around and working with them." **

"He managed to crosscheck everything that fast?" Matt asked, raising both brows as he glanced around the room for Watari. The man was nowhere to be found.

"Well he's remarkably efficient," said L. "Though I don't like having him do work like that, it infringes on his time to make me cake."

The cell phone lit up once more.

"**Because cake is always more important than identifying a potential murder weapon." **

L's lips pursed. "**I am glad to see Mr. Yagami shares my sentiments." **

It was then that Near decided to fully delve into the conversation with a topic of his own. "What concerns me is that B showed up in the first place," the young boy commented. The army men had now marched their way towards the center of the room and were preparing the scale the couch Matt sat on.

"Really?" L returned, biting his nail, more interested in the next words his cell would reveal than Near's concern. "I honestly don't care if Bs getting intel from someone close to us. He's proven that if he knows what we're doing, he will show. Anticipating his offense against us is our best avenue at the moment, as long as we ensure he doesn't escape next time."

Near stared at his mentor blankly, and though completely emotionless, the look was oddly accusatory. "No one should have known we were going to Unnatural Flooring, and I highly doubt Beyond randomly decided to go back to the murder scene."

"What if he forgot something?" Matt suggested.

L's cell phone buzzed not even a minute later. **"We swept the room, there was nothing out of the ordinary left behind. Aside from the body of course."**

L relayed the information back to his wards. "The entire building was swept, as I'm sure you two well remember, you were the ones who did the sweeping after all. Nothing was found, and according to you and , Matt, B didn't take anything."

"Are you saying…?"

Near nodded at the pink haired teenager, dramatically stating, "Beyond is getting information from someone on the inside."

"Yes," L affirmed. "And as I said, I don't really care."

Near, however, didn't seem to be hearing L's words. "I think Yagami's the mole."

L glanced at the boy sharply, wide owl eyes rapidly becoming narrowed slits. But Near wasn't looking at him, nor anything else in particular. Instead, the albino child lay calmly across the floor, battlements of plastic army figures marching in fastidious rows over the carpet. He was utterly undisturbed for someone who had just accused another of treachery. Not that L thought any different. If there was one person who would be giving everything away it would by Light. The other man just looked like an individual that knew how to juggle. Light Yagami was probably the type who went through high school with three different girlfriends and a male lover on the side, none of who knew about the others. Charm and intelligence always made for the best double agents.

L didn't just suspect Light of informing Beyond of the investigation's movements, he was banking on it.

"I'd like to hear your reasoning for such allegations Near," L said dryly. "That is if you're willing to share."

Near blinked, but gave nothing away. He was here to be tested by L, so he let the Detective proctor his loaded exam. "Why else would Yagami have been there at that point in time?"

"To save my ass?" Matt ventured. "He put up a good fight, was a pretty good shot. It honestly didn't seem like he was holding back against Beyond. The only reason those bullets didn't hit was because B's fucking inhuman."

L tilted his head to the side. He remembered reviewing Light's ballistics reports before Beyond had escaped. The boy wasn't a good shot, he was perfect. Which meant Light was more than capable of faking a miss, especially when going against a martial artist as skilled as Beyond. It was no stretch of L's imagination that allowed him to suspect that was precisely what Light had done. The very idea made his heart flutter just a bit. It seemed a perfect con, one L could truly appreciate. Such a plot would also allow L to spend more time with Light, reviewing his behavior... alone…

Fuck.

L was getting tired of trying to push those thoughts aside. Light was interesting. Before, when he was just a file, several pieces of paper stapled together, he'd merely been a potential tool. Now, when L had him standing right in front of him, insulting and criticizing every move the Detective made… It was motivating. It was _fun_. And the fact that Beyond knew Light personally, was potentially working with the charismatic twenty year old, it was a bonus sweeter than frosting. And it matched perfectly with the caramel flavor L's fantasies attributed to Light.

"He'd be protecting his cover," Near supplied, breaking though the barrage of L's slightly inappropriate thoughts.

"Obscuring the fact that he is indeed working in tandem with Beyond." Matt shook his head, glancing back down at his computer screen where the colorful blocks of tetris rained, crime scene photos and reports minimized. "I don't see it Near. Or at the very least, I don't see L letting him get away with it so easily."

_I suppose it's good to know one of my potential candidates understand how I work_, L thought idly. _That or Near understands what I'm doing and this is his way of saying he doesn't agree with my methods_. The detective slurped the frosting from a Red Velvet cake, the sixth cup cake he'd eaten in the span of minutes, and spun a lazy circle in his chair. "How is Light getting the information?"

"You're giving it to him."

L stopped spinning. "Are you suggesting I'm sabotaging my own investigation?"

Matt covertly glanced over the top of his computer screen, eyes moving back and forth between Near and L while his fingers rotated colored boxes down the screen and eliminated rows of blocks. He honestly didn't see this conversation ending well.

"No," Near replied steadily. "That would be ridiculous. But you could have him assisting you outside of us."

L swerved away from the white ball of fluff spread over his hotel room floor. So Near got points for that. The petite boy saw right through the charade, not that Light had helped in that regard. Bursting in to save Matt the way he had, at exactly the time Matt needed to be saved from the fiend known as Beyond Birthday. Apparently L hadn't been giving his successors enough credit. Matt was probably onto everything too, but unlike Near, he had no desire to push the subject. L had a sneaking suspicion that the former red head liked L's newest, auburn haired intrigue.

"Hmm…" L hummed, glancing over the TV monitors and out the window. Just because they were onto him didn't mean he had to confirm their suspicions. "That's not a bad idea…"

3B

Giovanni stood several feet away from his boss, practically on the other end of the hallway, watching as the other FBI agent proceeded to pick her way into the apartment of one of the agency's best criminal psychologists. Grimly leaning against the wall he shook his head.

"What are the five most hated words an FBI agent can hear?" Giovanni asked curtly, eye brows raised.

Naomi Misora glanced over her shoulder, glaring at the unfortunate subordinate of hers that had drawn the short straw.

"Do you have a warrant?"

"Light works for me," Naomi huffed, jamming another pick into the dead bolt.

"Oh, because that makes everything okay."

Naomi ignored the sardonic man in favor of pushing the apartment door open, a victorious smile lining her face. "Come on Gi, the sooner we turn the place over the faster you can get home to that red headed bimbo you've been bedding."

Giovanni rolled his eyes but complied nonetheless. He'd been working under Naomi Misora for three years, and in that time he'd come to see why she was so despised by the upper brass. Misora was one of these agents that took initiative, most of the time moving outside of protocol, because god forbid an agent take shortcuts through bureaucracy to catch a murderer. But more than that, she was successful, solving through more cases than some of the male agents who'd practically been born into the FBI. She was one of those rare agents that had a sense, the keen ability to detect when something was off, when a seemingly flawless puzzle piece didn't quite fit with the rest of the picture. She just _knew_ when something didn't add up.

And then she had to pick at it.

There was no doubt in Giovanni's mind that when Misora picked at something, it was usually because something else lay beneath the surface, something rotten. Yet, Giovanni was having a difficult time placing such skeletons in Light Yagami's closet. The kid was a genius and his worth ethic was, well, Giovanni couldn't find any way to describe it as other than _Asian_. It made working a case with both him and Misora nearly unbearable. Giovanni had been born into an American family, meaning he suffered from the typical American tradition of procrastination. Naomi and Light, they insulted him for it. Yagami was an upstanding citizen, a model of perfection. And he was a good guy, wound a little tight, but nothing to suggest a budding serial killer. So why the hell was Naomi intent on breaking into Light's apartment.

Giovanni figured he might as well ask.

But the woman didn't answer in favor of entering the apartment.

Following Naomi's swish of black hair through the threshold, Giovanni silently shut the door behind him and stared. The place was ridiculously clean. Light had been in England for about a week and yet not a speck of dust had deigned to land on any of the apartment's finely, polished surfaces. Not a cobweb or ounce of grime could be found anywhere in the tiny, living space. One probably could have eaten off the toilet. The kitchen, though more of an alcove set in the apartment's right corner, was a mass of spotless, stainless steel. Appliances sparkled as if they'd been newly purchased while clear, plastic containers were set against the counter wall, each bearing a label marking the containers contents and expiration date. There was no dining room, but a nice coffee table was set up in the center of what appeared to be the sitting area, framed by two large book cases and a computer desk. There was no TV. But the computer monitor, that Giovanni had to admit, was flashy.

"Check the computer files," Naomi commanded, already making her way towards the bedroom. "E-mails, documents, programs, look through it all."

"For what?" Giovanni asked, obediently taking a seat before the desk.

"Anything that'll tell me why the hell he decided to quit."

Remnants of OCD were scattered, or more accurately, delicately laid out, across the desk. A stack of sticky notes were positioned to the left of the flat screen monitor, directly beside it was a steel cup holding five different types of black pens. A stack of blank notebook paper sat to the far right, lying in front of an Epson printer/scanner hybrid. A series of drawers fell beneath the table top, Giovanni decided to start there.

Meanwhile, Naomi rummaged through Light's closet. There were no skeletons inside, just a series of finely pressed suites, dress shirts, and some rather nice cashmere sweaters. It was a good sign the closet wasn't empty, or that the apartment hadn't been cleaned out. It meant Light would be coming back at some point in time. Light was a man of few possessions and those he did have were important to him, remnants of a family he'd left behind. Plus, the man liked his clothes; Light would rather jump in front of a burning oil tanker before leaving his precious lover, Hugo Boss, behind.

Turning from the assortment of designer labels she fell to her knees, whipping the bed sheets up to reveal the empty foot of space separating the bed from the floor. She scowled, there wasn't even so much as a dust mite.

Running a hand through her hair she barged into the bathroom. It was even more cramp than the kitchen and even cleaner. But, aside from the basic toiletries, there was nothing there. Unless the twenty year old had been exchanging secret messages via toilet paper scraps, nothing pointed towards what Light was doing.

Quietly she opened the medicine cabinet, eyes roaming over the array of plastic bottles, each fastidiously labeled according to its contents, just like the kitchen. The woman shook her head; it was startling, the difference between Light Yagami's apartment and his office. Yagami's office, for lack of better description, was a voracious, paper sucking pit. Naomi couldn't recall a time when the floor wasn't covered in crumpled scraps of garbage. Loose pages of notes made up the wall décor, each filled with a diminutive scribble of writing. Sticky notes color coded the pages, connecting them to files which were constantly scattered across the desk, overwhelming the government issued computer Light used. Pictures spread themselves over the rest of the desk space, scrawled over with circled observations and messily clipped to typed pages of analysis. To connect the boy's office she'd so often visited while stepping over piles of styrofoam coffee cups with this spotless apartment, it played a cruel number on Naomi's mind.

Already, the woman was connecting the dots between those two discrepancies. She may not have been as savvy a profiler as Light, but she knew a few things, enough to conclude that Light _really _enjoyed his job. It was a difficult task, separating Obsessive Compulsives from there compulsions, but she knew it was possible, to distract the human mind, alleviate the need for order and control. Light Yagami's distraction was the criminal mind. On so many late nights she'd seen him thrive on that vibe, the call to open and dissect motive from the corpses some sick bastard had left behind. Just like her, he felt the jazz, heard the tiny whisper enticing them both towards the bloodshed. Society's social norms and a government sanctioned paycheck really were the only things demanding they grab a mop and clean the mess up. Doing so allayed the boredom.

Which as precisely why Naomi worried. Because they had that in common, and the pull was stronger in Light than it was in her. He was the prodigy. For Light Yagami to simply leave, come home one night and decide staying wasn't worth it anymore, that slammed against the warning bells mounted to the forefront of Naomi's brain. The only logical reason she could devise, amplifying why Light would fly across the pond, was because he'd found something better. He'd uncovered a new substance, a new drug that could fill the void better than any criminal mind ever could.

It wasn't a conclusion that boded well for the world.

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the lengthy, black locks out of her face as she moved back into the living room. Standing in the center of the flat she turned in a circle, eyes slowly ravaging the apartment space, seeking out that one imperfection that would give it all away.

"Does Raye have an opinion about your newest conspiracy theory?" Giovanni asked humerously. The computer mouse clicked steadily beneath his forefinger, hunting through the hard drive.

Naomi didn't answer.

"Oh that's nice, lying to your husband, defiantly the recipe for a long lasting marriage."

"Shut up." The female agent rolled her eyes, crossing the room to stand directly behind Giovanni.

"I just don't understand this, Naomi, that's all. If Light wanted to quit then that's completely up to him. He followed protocol to the letter. Really it's not any of our business."

"It's not completely up to him Gi. Light is one of the most talented criminal psychologists I've ever met, probably one of the best in the world. He already knows Beyond, knows how the psychopath thinks. He doesn't need closure. It's a waste of talent for him to run off and play vigilante." She leaned against the back of Giovanni's chair, watching as the man delved deeper into the heart of the computer.

There'd been a time L had said something similar to her. _Quitting was a waste of talent. _Though the Detective hadn't been quite so polite about it. Instead he'd commented that her marriage was a waste of money as it had a ninety-seven percent chance of failure due to the fact that Naomi was more committed to justice than her fiancé. L had then gone on to say she should leave Raye so the FBI didn't have to suffer from further idiocy. Really, the man was quite the charmer.

"Hey, I won't argue Light wasn't bright, his intelligence made for some rather trite puns. But ultimately, it was his decision."

"Not when he's planning something…" Naomi leaned forward, eyes narrowing onto the computer screen.

"What makes you think he is?"

Naomi ignored the question, as she had been for most of the night. "His letter of resignation, open that up," she directed, pointing towards a document listed near the bottom of the screen.

A few click of the mouse and Giovanni had the letter splayed across the monitor. An eyebrow quirked as he checked the modification date. "He'd been planning his resignation," Gi announced, briefly glancing up at Naomi. "The document was created the day he joined the FBI."

"Why would he have planned to resign? Is there anything else on here?"

"No," Giovanni said. "Only other stuff I found was the cases he worked on and emails between him, coworkers, and his sister. Looks like the girl travels a lot, last email marked her as being in Harihari, New Zealand."

"Yeah, he said he was going to London for her wedding." Misora's eyes narrowed further and she stepped to the side, swiftly pulling open the desk drawers.

"I already checked through those," Giovanni informed, swiveling the chair out of the woman's way. "Nothing but take-out receipts."

She pulled the second drawer open and stopped. "The depths are off."

"What?"

Naomi looked over the desk and grinned, delighted at the cup of ball point pens set off to the side of the computer monitor. "The depths of these two drawers are off, even though, from the outside they appear to be the same size. They're not." Kneeling to the floor she peered underneath the top drawer. Her elation only grew. A small hole peeked out at her from the underside of the top drawer. Finally she was getting somewhere.

"Pass me the Papermate ball point pen," Naomi instructed.

Giovanni complied without hesitation. She made quick work of the thing, dexterously disassembling the pen as if it were a firearm and carefully extracting the ink cartage. With one sharp jab she ran the cartage through the hole in the bottom of the desk and the false bottom popped off.

Giovanni stared in open shock as the plywood was removed from the interior of the drawer. "How the hell did you know that would work?"

"Light only uses mechanical pencils," Naomi explained. "He hates getting ink stains on his hands. So he wouldn't use them at home. However, an ink cartage is the perfect key to a false bottom. It's the only thing he would have used a pen for."

"Yeah, one that could have blown up," Gi remarked, eyes wide as he took in the rest of the drawers contents. A bag of gasoline was set on the bottom of the hidden space, a series of electrical wires surrounding the pouch, set to erupt in flames if the drawer was ever forced open.

Misora didn't comment. She plucked a faded, white envelope from the back of the drawer, the only object inside. _What were you hiding Light?_ Gently she turned the paper over, Giovanni anxiously watching as she opened the already torn envelop, pulling out a severely well read letter. Unfurling the single sheet of paper Naomi began to read.

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A/N: Damn was L a bastard to write this time around. I feel like I never get him right… :/

But we're heading for answers. I absolutely promise everything is about to be revealed.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I apologize for the wait. This chapter really kicked my ass, but it's the longest yet, so hurrah.

Love to all who read and reviewed last time around! We're over ten thousand hits, so thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. Not making any money off of this work.

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Chapter 15

"_You know the wallpaper speaks to me."_

_Light couldn't help raising his eyebrows at the declaration. Beyond didn't usually feign insanity. He didn't need to; the murderous tendencies were more than enough. Though how multiple acts of murder meant one was lacking in their mental facilities, that was a notion society held Light would never understand. It was the logical men that were always the most dangerous. Men like Beyond Birthday. _

"_Is this a recent development?" Light leaned backwards, humorously regarding Beyond through the bullet proof glass that separated him from the murderer. _

_B smiled softly, but he didn't answer the question. "I find the paper is a better conversationalist than you are." _

"_You don't like my company?"_

"_No," B snipped, crossing his shackled arms over his chest. The staff had removed the straightjacket on account of good behavior and B's promise to converse with one of the doctors twice a week. "You're more laid back now, at ease. That wasn't my intention. I'm surprised you came back."_

_Light regarded Beyond emotionlessly. He supposed he could see where the murderer was coming from. For years he'd been able to manipulate individuals through fear, requiring little else to get what he wanted out of the prison staff. Those techniques hadn't worked on Light so well. Beyond had expected a submissive mess of a human to return to him, but Light had only come back stronger. More accepting of Beyond. B would have to work harder at gaining a foothold in Light's psyche, revise his methods. But that could only happen once the murderer stopped pouting over his loss._

_Light gave himself bonus points for that. _

_The graduate student had to wonder though, when had things transgressed out of a simple interview and into a game? When had Light begun to feel he needed the upper hand? _

"_I told you when we first met; I was prepared for the possibility of you harming me. It is entirely your own fault that your actions did not incur the response you desired," Light said, tone cutting. "I came back because, despite the incident that occurred a few days ago, and despite what I learned about you from it, there's still a lot I'd like to learn about you,"_

_B's mouth thinned into an indiscernible line of scarred tissue. "My favorite color is yellow, I like eating spaghetti every Thursday evening, straightjackets make me itch, I'm allergic to raspberries, and I think you're a jackass."_

_We'll somebody was a sore loser. Light smiled serenely and picked at the bullshit. "Symbolically yellow refers to one who is deceitful and even perhaps cowardly. Not at all what I picture of you."_

_B's eyes widened in pleasure and he accepted the challenge. "But if I am deceitful than how are you to know if your interpretation of me is correct. I could be acting."_

"_If you are it's out of fear," Light concluded. "You fear having to face the consequences of your failure in Los Angeles, but more than that you fear having to admit that you are less than what you desired to become."_

"_What if I don't know what I desire to become?" B questioned._

"_You mean you don't know anymore," Light clarified._

_B began drawing patterns over the steel table with his index finger, cuffs listlessly jangling from his wrist. "It's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when one is only permitted to see the sky once a day." _

_Light's head tilted at that one. "Are you saying it isn't your desire to escape? Honestly I find myself flummoxed that you locked yourself back in your cell the other night." _

"_The only way I'm coming out of here is with your body over my shoulder."_

_Light took the promise in stride, not all concerned that it was exactly that. A promise. "And will I be alive or dead?" _

_B scoffed. "Do you want me to kill you?"_

"_Do you want to kill me?" Light returned evenly, the sarcasm of Beyond's question not even reaching him The younger male had become impervious to every taunt, largely unaffected and no longer biting. _

_Beyond felt as if he'd been made into the fish and Light the fisherman, mocking him with wriggling bait. The murderer did not appreciate it one bit. "It's not polite to respond to a question with another question. I'd have thought someone as polite and well brought up as you would know that." _

_Edging forward in his seat Light heaved an internal sigh of frustration. Beyond was drawing back again, curling into his shell and he was doing it just to spite Light. Resting his chin in his hand Light stared dully at the hunching form opposite him. Evasive maneuvers were a standard manipulation technique Light was more than familiar with. He used them all the time to doge the inquiries his mother sent regarding her other, more elusive child. Obviously the technique was used to move the conversation from a topic one party wished to hide. Light just wasn't sure if Beyond was attempting to hide something or if he was just screwing with him. The latter seemed the most viable option considering the serial killer's disposition. Either way, Light only had one card to play. _

"_You don't want to kill me."_

_B nodded his head yes, stretching out over the table like a cat, reaching towards the glass that separated him from Light. "Not if you're willing to die. That just wouldn't be much fun." _

_Light nodded, accepting the remark. "Good, because I'm not willing to die."_

_Beyond managed to brush his finger tips against the glass and he grinned like the pussy cat who stole Tweety Bird, but Light couldn't help but notice how the emotion didn't reach the man's eyes. _

"_You're not making any sense Sweetie Jam…"_

"_No, I think I am. You just want to hear me say it," Light concluded confidently. "I'd like to die by your hand. I'd like to die fighting against you." _

_Escape from Beyond Birthday was unheard of. Only two individuals had ever managed it. The first was Beyond himself, Light was now the second to claim the title. From that perspective it became pretty clear what Beyond wanted. He wanted to prove himself, to prove himself to Light. _

_B's smile widened, but still, his irises were dull. "I'll be sure to make it extra special. In fact, I have a plan." _

_Light sat up straighter. "A plan?"_

"_A new trick if you will," Beyond explained, waving his hand through the air like he was sticking it out the window of a cursing car. "It's been in the works for awhile. A memorial to another dear friend of mine."_

_Light couldn't help but scoff. "You actually have friends?" The image of B willingly spending time with another human, a human that wasn't a bleeding corpse, fitted strangely in Light's mind. The only reason the killer put up with Light was because they'd locked him in the room and chained him to a bolted down desk. _

"_Don't be nasty Sweetie Jam," B admonished. "Everybody has at least one friend."_

"_Why are you dedicating this plan of yours to your friend?" _

"_Because it was originally his idea." B settled back into his chair, twisting his wrists around the chains that kept him in place. A morosely nostalgic look which didn't quite fit on the murderer's face fell into his crimson eyes. "Just like me he was an unhappy child. Though he may have been happier if I hadn't tormented him so much. But he was more fun than all the other kiddies, him and little Mattie-Ma. They were the ones who actually tried to make me stop."_

_That was something Light's mind could more easily stomach, but the concept was still foreign. Serial killers generally didn't have friends, even during their childhoods. But then, Beyond Birthday had never conformed to the image of the world's average serial killer. He was just a highly disturbed individual with too much time on his hands. "He was your friend and yet you tormented him?" _

_B's head bobbed up and down mutedly, quickly shedding the memories of his unnamed friend and fixing his attention back on Light. "Just like I did to you." _

"_You maimed me with a stiletto." Light deadpanned. "That goes quite a ways beyond torment I think."_

_B's expression soured. "You're still mad about that? It's been a few days."_

"_I'm not mad," Light admitted honestly. "And if I was it's because I'm mad at myself. I was unable to defend myself. I don't like feeling weak. I only bring the matter up now because really, why a stiletto?" _

_B didn't even think his answer over. "The surgical equipment was locked in a steel cabinet and I was too lazy to pick the lock."_

_The unconcerned response washed over Light and the college student simple hummed, filing the information away for future reference. Outwardly Light was the perfect image of calm, he was collected. Internally, he didn't feel that different. this was perhaps the most withdrawn he'd observed Beyond, the lack of suggestive quips and taunting remarks triggered the analytical wheels comprising Light's mind into overdrive. If he didn't know any better he'd say Beyond was depressed. More than likely it had something to do with the aforementioned 'friend.' _

"_Tell me about this plan of yours." Light didn't bother hiding the fact that he was digging for answers. It would've been an insult to B's intelligence. _

_Some amount of animation tinged at the corners of B's mouth, but otherwise he remained laid out across the table like a broken doll. "I think you'll like it. It's all about justice." _

"_Justice for what?" Light asked, his curiosity genuine. What could a criminal possibly need to seek justice for? _

_Beyond's eyes darkened and Light felt a familiar chill walk leisurely down his spinal column. He'd seen that look the moment before B had stabbed him, the only thing it came with was searing pain and rivers of blood. The single word B uttered did nothing to quell the feelings of unease kindling in Light's stomach. "Children."_

_Honesty was the best policy, and nothing gave Beyond away as a liar. "Does it have anything to do with L?" Light asked._

_If it was possible, B's visage turned even darker, black clouds of noxious gas turning over his mind. "Of course it does. As I told you before, L has everything to do with everything. He's at the center of it all. Some say he's the first victim. But really, I just hate him." _

"_Why?" _

"_Because of what he made my friend do. That was his entire fault." The serial killer turned over on the table so he was glaring at Light upside down. "Now I have to pick up the pieces. I need to help my darling."_

Darling_, Light wondered if B had a cute nickname for everyone he took an interest to. "I fail to see how you'll accomplish anything behind prison bars."_

_B smirked, the smile barring his teeth in a fascinating show of horrifying cruelty. "I think I'll manage just fine."_

3B

Light rolled off the mattress, climbing to his feet and heading for the bathroom. _Adaptable_, was it concerning how able he was to mold himself into the role of any situation? He was adaptable. Now the nightmares came and he didn't wake, he didn't budge, sleep was restful again. At least as restful as it could be when Beyond Birthday was hammering at the door of his REM cycle.

The shower sprayed to life and Light stripped, depositing his wrinkled pajamas into the hamper off to the side as he stepped over the wall of the tub. Strange as it was to think, Beyond's opinion of L matched almost flawlessly with Naomi Misora's. Naomi who he'd received an irritating call from again the other night, right after he got off the phone with L. But she hadn't asked about his resignation like he expected. Instead she'd gone off about the super sleuth. Woman seemed to have pieced that portion of the puzzle together and chosen it as the best plan of attack.

If only he could feel as adverse to the Detective as she did.

Stepping out of the shower, Light commenced with his morning routine. Toweling dry, dental care, and getting dressed. People tended to assume he spent minutes on end prepping for the day, but he didn't, not anymore at least. The crisp, collar of his pinstriped dress shirt chaffed gently against the scar running over his collar bone, but he ignored it, securing the buttons in place and effectively hiding the scar from foreign eyes. He bypassed the mirror completely, refusing to take in his reflection, which he knew would be flawless, slinging a silk tie around his neck and grabbing his jacket before leaving the bedroom.

Descending the stairs, fingers expertly pulling the black silk tie into place he paused. "Does everyone know how to get into my apartment without my knowing?" Light groaned.

Hachirou laughed from his seat on the couch. "You should probably work on that. Someone might murder you in your sleep."

"Someone like you?"

The other Asian man shook his head, though a pleased grin had wormed over his face. "No, I'm more the hire a hit-man type. Coffee?" he held a cup, baring an all too familiar green logo, out for Light to take.

Amber eyes swept over the coffee table, noting the laptop, placed almost exactly where Light had left it the night before. "You've been looking through my computer files?" He took the latte from his sister's fiancé.

"Well it was easier than hacking the London police database myself," Hachirou admitted without remorse. "Remember, my sister who was the first victim."

"Forgive me, but you don't seem that torn up over her death." Light had only just met Hachirou in person, but Light couldn't help the nagging flaw in the man's actions. He seemed remorseless. There was nothing in Hachirou's face that suggested his sister had just been brutally murdered in a parking garage. Or maybe the man was just that good at hiding his emotions. Good enough to keep them from Light.

Hachirou seemed to follow Light's line of thought, but he smiled ruefully anyway. "I promise I'll be more into the hysterics as I drive an ice pick through the head of the bastard responsible for all this."

Standing over Hachirou, Light gently took a sip of his coffee, glancing thoughtfully out of the window across from him. "You really plan on killing him?"

"If I get the chance I'll take it."

_But you wouldn't enjoy it,_ Light couldn't help but think, looking at the man who was about to marry his little sister. There was no chance Hachirou Junko would relish killing someone. No matter how good the man was at obscuring his emotions, developing a façade to hide his true self from the world behind, there was one aspect of the human mind Light could always identify. He knew the drive when he saw it, it'd been his job to identify that one little quirk that only certain individuals gave themselves over to. Murder had to be orchestrated, it wasn't a matter of chance. That was something Hachirou failed to realize, and it gave him away. For this, Light couldn't help but feel thankful.

His sister wasn't marrying a monster.

"Maybe I can help you find that chance." Light moved for the door, pulling his jacket on as he did. He didn't have to glance over his shoulder to know that Hachirou was following him.

"What's are you planning?"

"Not planning anything," Light said, pushing the down button on the escalator. "Just going to collect some evidence."

Hachirou didn't ask any more questions, instead he remained silent while Light hailed a cab and took them down to the London police homicide offices. The office itself wasn't more than a building in the downtown area, hardly discernable from any of the area's other office spaces. The words "Police Department" weren't even printed on the front of the building, they'd been etched into the glass of the double, front doors, font barely large enough to read from the sidewalk. It was simply a mass of concrete, slightly gothic in style, and utterly colorless.

The interior of the office reminded Light of the San Francisco FBI building. The halls were clean, cubicles neatly cluttered; it was only through glancing into a side office door that one could see the real mess. And, as with San Francisco, the reception desk was unmanned, which made getting in all the easier.

"You're just going to walk in?" Hachirou glanced around the room, attempting to be as covert as possible, which was difficult when one was illuminated by brighter than hell florescent lighting. Strangely however, no one seemed to care they were there.

Light nodded, completely at home with his surroundings, sure in his footsteps as he approached the back of the building. People did glance up at the two men as they wove their way around the office doors and cubicle spaces, or, specifically, people glanced at Light. The confidence Light exuded seemed to be pass enough for the London police officers and they nodded the twenty year old through the swinging, steel doors, Hachirou blending into his shadow, descending into the basement of the Homicide Offices.

The morgue wasn't cold, as Hachirou had figured it would be. He'd never seen a preserved body before, but his mind had likened a cadaver's residence to a meat freezer. The morgue, however, was comfortably warm and vacant. Eyes sweeping over the stainless steel drawers he glossed over the names, each cubby labeled with a case number which would forever be affixed to the deceased. One name stood out, chiming a bell of recognition in Hachirou's mind.

"The second victim?" he asked, not even waiting for a response from Light as he wrenched the steel drawer open. It rolled out with a vicious sound, squeaking and begging to be oiled.

The clatter of wheels approached the eight foot long slab and Hachirou grimaced at the sight of the medical instruments. Light ignored the distasteful expression. He snapped a pair of violently purple latex gloved on an unzipped the body bag while Hachirou flipped through the chart that had been filed inside the drawer with the body.

"Nothing new has been reported, at least on the body, since the reports you… borrowed… were filed," Hachirou observed scanning the report, trying his hardest not to look at the corpse Light had just unveiled.

There was a big difference between the photograph of a dead body and the actual body itself. There was also a difference between a fresh body and one that had had a few days to expire. While Hachirou seemed to be repulsed by both states of decomp, Light was more partial to the latter. In every case, the body that had time to decompose, to be pulled out of a ditch or unstrung from a noose, seven times out of ten it was murder. Murder meant a perfectly preserved body, blood replaced with embalming fluid, moisture sucked through a trocar via hydroseparator, leaving a cold, bacteria-less body prime for observation. No mess, just a canvas with obvious signs of trauma, the dregs of a killing formaldehyde couldn't wash away.

Had circumstances been different, Light could have found himself working in a homicide morgue, tracking killers down using only to bodies they left behind. God knew the dead were more cooperative than the living, and quieter too. Milky white skin barely moved, seemingly cemented in place, as Light ran his hand over the body. It was difficult to place the dead body before him as the same that he'd found swinging from a rope in the basement of a carpet shop, the two looked nothing alike. But the reality matched the photographs he'd taken.

Scratch marks ran jaggedly over the victim's neck, congruent with the thick bruise left over from the rope Beyond had used to cut off air flow. Light took in the damage quickly, his attention fixing to what he'd come to observe. Gently, his hands moved down the victim's right arm, where the gun had been found. Kneeling down he brought himself eye level with the woman's hand. Her nails were a mess, chipped and dislodged from her fingers in some places. It proved L's point, the gun was the centerpiece. In no way would the woman have sustained that type of damage to her fingernails if she'd been holding a gun, Beyond had placed it in her hand after she'd died.

"Turn her over."

Light glanced up, startled. "You already know what's there."

Hachirou shook his head. "I don't care, I want to see it."

A sigh puffed from Light's nostrils, but he complied with the request. It wouldn't hurt to look, prove what both of them already knew. The rational came swiftly through Light's mind as he gripped the woman's bare shoulders and hoisted her upper half off the table, gently folding her over her legs. She was practically weightless, a possible anorexic in life. Still, seeing the bruises, light scars framed in blossoming bursts of purple and blue, coiling into the alphabet's second letter, it made Light's own scar itch. It was as if the injury itself recognized the work of its owner and responded to it.

"These marks aren't good…"

Light didn't respond. Purple latex rubbed gently over the bruised letter 'B,' Light didn't know if he was inspecting it or simply acknowledging the potential damage.

Hachirou took a step closer to the slab, utterly emotionless. "He thinks things through. The man's definitely insane, but far from random. It amazes me that-"

"Can we not?" Light snapped, words cutting what Hachirou had been about to say in half. "You saw it in the report, we have confirmation now that the police didn't make any mistakes." He zipped the black vinyl back up, veiling the body before shoving it back into the wall and wiping the handle down. He'd already cleaned the tray and he didn't have to worry about Hachirou leaving fingerprints behind. Snapping the gloves off Light placed them in a ziplock bag and pocketed the material.

Now came the highly illegal part.

Mood swinging back into a more cordial position, Light nodded an apology, but that was it.

Taking it in stride, Hachirou did the only thing he could to comfort his fiancé's brother. "Is this where I come in?" Hachirou asked, a smile playing off his lips.

Light rolled his eyes, already striding towards the door, irritation gone. "And you'll get way too much enjoyment out of it."

"Just act your pretty self and I'm sure we'll be fine."

An elegant, auburn brow rose to meet the fringe of Light's bangs, but he just shook his head, leading the way out of the morgue. Now was not the time for someone to notice them, getting to the gun was bound to be more difficult than getting into the morgue was. No one worried about people stealing dead bodies, unregistered firearms on the other hand were another case entirely. The duo walked steadily through the police office. Forensics was a floor above and comprised of a dingy lab which took up the entire level.

Light paused, eyes scanning over the room, appraising the people working and calculating escape routes in the event he or Hachirou royally screwed up. Focus locking on a woman standing and speaking swiftly with what appeared to be a blood splatter analysis, Light nodded. With a breath be pushed the glass door into the lab space open, walked in, and shouted.

"THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" The effect was instantaneous. Immediately all working stopped as every pair of eyes in the room fell on Light. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE SO LONG?"

Hurriedly, a thin, brunette woman approached Light. Seemed he was right in thinking she'd be the only one with the balls to do so. "Sir, who - ?"

Light didn't let her get very far. "Who am _I_?" he snapped, turning a poignant glare at her. "I'm from the Japanese embassy. Apparently a family of Japanese citizens is having issues sending the body of one of their member's home."

The woman's eyes widened. "You should speak to someone in the morgue they - "

"There's no one down there!" Light seethed, eyes narrowing into slits, and he proceeded to butcher the poor woman verbally.

Amusement churned in Hachirou's eyes while he circled the room, Light's miniature CSI Drama turning attention away from his contamination of the ballistics desks. Or, table as it appeared. The piece of plywood sat to the right of the lab, set against the wall and sandwiched between two ceiling high filing cabinets, each of which was bolted to the floor, drawers secured with master locks. The only thing sitting on the table was a plastic sign baring the words "Out to Shoot."

At least someone loved their job.

Hoping the ballistics specialist wasn't out shooting the gun he was after, Hachirou removed the glass pipette and pair of tweezers he'd swiped from a neighboring desk. It felt nice getting back to basics, though the knowledge that nothing more than a cheap lock separated the public from confiscated fire arms didn't do much for Hachirou's opinion of the London police. It'd been years since he'd been a part of a con simple as this. As for the lock picking task, that was a menial chore, the challenge lay in going through each drawer until he found the gun without getting caught. He was completely reliant on Light's ability to captivate an audience here.

Leisure work was not an option and the threat made for a glorious drug.

The first lock clicked open, revealing the contents of the left cabinet's bottom drawer. Five boxes took up the space, each with a case number scrawled over in sharpie, but none with a number corresponding to the one Hachirou had found labeling Light's "borrowed" case files. Cabinet number two wasn't much better, nor was drawer three, and Light was getting hoarse. Briefly he glanced over his shoulder, a man had joined the argument, the woman now swearing violently while another man man punched numbers into a cell phone. Light seemed unperturbed as he screamed back as good as he got from the female police officer.

Gritting his teeth, he moved onto number four, glass and metal tinkering against each other to trip the lock. It clicked open easily and he swiftly pulled open the drawer. Easily, he disregarded the boxes too small to hold the 9mm Rami Compact Pistol as well as those too large to house the gun, which was all of them.

From the corner of his eye he saw someone leave the room, fretfully watching Light's distraction as he left. Time was running out.

And then his phone buzzed.

Blinking, he pulled the touch screen from his pocket and nearly cursed aloud when he saw the caller ID. Now was not the time, but he answered anyway, voice nothing more than a whisper and not even betraying the tension buzzing against his chest. The call only added to the thrill.

"Hello?"

He paused for a minute, listening to the voice on the other end as he moved through the boxes encaged within the fifth drawer. "Look" he hissed, "Now's not a good time. I'll call you back." And he hung up, eyes catching the warning look from Light in the reflection of the cabinet.

Moving quickly he crossed to the other set of drawers and began working on the bottom rung. It slid open easily and there it was. The case number messily printed over the cardboard box. Removing the box from the drawer he closed the drawer, setting the lock back in place, mentally assessing the weight. It was perfect. He didn't wait for Light, didn't even look at him, as he left the building. Light would catch up, waiting would've been suspicious.

From across the room Light watched Hachirou remove himself from the lab, box in hand. _About damn, fucking time. _

"I don't have time for this!" Light barked. "That body better be on the first flight back to Japan or you'll find yourselves at the center of an international incident!" With that he turned on his heel and all but ran from the room. Reinforcement's were on the way, with any luck he'd get out before they went up; slow response seemed to be a theme for this particular homicide office. Brushing past a group of bickering police agents and a man who appeared to be the station's Chief, Light quickened his pace.

Hachirou was waiting for him outside the station, cardboard box in hand, wearing an expression of satisfaction with a tinge of relief mixed in. "Everything alright?"

"I wouldn't be out here if it wasn't," Light said tersely. Law breaking wasn't one of his most favorite past times, even if it was in the name of a man who called himself 'Justice.' "But I'd be lying if I said they didn't deserve it."

"Hey, you were good! A natural really. And…I need to go."

Light faltered Hachirou's demeanor suddenly shifted, the glint that had been shining in the man's eyes quickly extinguishing into a haze of smoke. He looked like he was hallucinating the ghost of Christmas Past, assaulted with sour memories of a stocking full of coal.

Before he could ask what was wrong Hachirou shoved the box with the gun into Light's arms. "I'll call you later okay?" And he left, jogging across the street without any explanation.

Sayu would be getting a call about this.

Yet, before Light could even begin to theorize what mental illness his sister's fiancé was suffering from, something exploded against the wall beside his head. Rounding towards the owner of the now decimated projectile, Light gaped as he found himself facing the last person he'd been expecting to see.

"Uhh…" Was all his vocal chords could manage.

3B

Freedom, for some unfathomable reason, was not as great as Mello had previously thought it would be. Shackles no longer wound around his wrists, rubbing the skin raw; there was no large, industrial strength chain with links as big as his fist stretching between his arm and the marble flooring. It left the blonde feeling strangely empty, though the blistering skin on his wrist did provide some amount of comfort. And Mello didn't even want to contemplate how fucked up that thought sounded. He'd regressed into nothing more than Beyond's… mind fuck toy. He refused to admit to his newfound dependence on the murdering psycho. There was no such thing as Stockholm Syndrome.

Idly Mello slumped around the room, orbiting Beyond who sat cross legged in the center. The table was still in shards on the floor, the doors in much the same state despite the new addition of Mello's Idiots. They stood vigilant by the entrance, awaiting what, Mello had no friggen clue, but they were there for something, like the annoying gay dads he'd never had. He entertained the idea of screaming at them, channeling his frustration through his vocal chords and acting like an infant. Matt told him he was good at that. But the idea soured a minute after he thought it. Too much energy, energy he could save for kicking the crap out of his negligent kidnapper.

Oh wasn't that a nasty thought…

He was pissed at Beyond. Pissed that the murderer had had the audacity to do something like _that_. He'd been there, completely at the man's mercy, trapped beneath a creepy as hell gaze and strong forearms, and B had backed off. Not even, the man had fucking ignored him. It wrecked havoc on Mello's mind as if his brain were a Louisiana Street on Mardi Gras. It wasn't as if Mello wanted to be raped, he refused to be the victim here, that was the hotel staff, _he_ was collateral. But would it have killed the freak to uphold his reputation and act the part of the disgusting pedophile he really was? What it have killed Beyond to give Mello a reason to hate him?

Something had to be up.

Mello stomped towards the center of the room, breaking rank from the loops he'd been pacing for the better part of ten hours. Yeah, he hadn't slept. Beyond, on the other hand, had taken to staring at the ceiling, thinking silently to himself. Despite his better judgment Mello had left the man to it, too freaked out by the earlier events that had taken placed to properly deter the murderer from whatever blood bathed fantasy he was concocting.

Now, however, now he was mad, and he acknowledged that anger by kicking Beyond in the shin. "What are you doing?"

Beyond slowly glanced up at Mello, eyes wider than a preschooler's. He knew the effect his current actions were having on his hostage, and it had B mentally licking his lips in anticipation. Shrugging his shoulders Beyond turned away from the blonde, placing his attention back onto the high school chemistry set he'd stolen a few days ago. "Preparing some stuff for the next time I kill you." He'd had to kill a teaching assistant to get his hands on the chemicals, but thus far that action hadn't been traced back to him. Not that you could trace a body you couldn't find. And either way, no high school should've been allowed to have the stuff B required, it was an adolescent accident waiting to happen. By removing temptation, and the hot teaching assistant, he was doing the hormonal tots a service.

Mello shivered at Beyond's words, but he sat opposite the older male anyway, tense stance practically demanding attention. Not that B was going to give him any.

Refusing to let silence slaughter his bad mood Mello opened his mouth. "You really need to stop referring to these murders as my own. It's disturbing," he commented more than slightly hypnotized by the stirring motion Beyond's hands were performing.

A tiny smile tinged Beyond's chapped lips. "But it's true. Every time I kill one of these people you die a little inside. Why is that I wonder?"

Mello grimaced. The bastard knew why. "Because you're killing them because of me!" Mello bore a mark of responsibility for every single one of them. Without Mello, B would have no reason to harm anyone.

"Oh the arrogance!" B cackled in delight, eyes shining with a pleasure that instantly set Mello in edge. "I like that, you get that from L no doubt. But alas, it's not because of you I kill these girls. It's because of what you represent. We've been over this Little Dear."

That they had, and yet it did nothing to lessen the sense of guilt, the sense that Mello was taking too long to end this, put his plan into action. It'd only been a matter of hours since he'd last been left alone by Beyond. Didn't the man have the decency to leave the stupid ballroom? It wasn't as if Mello himself could leave, not while B was watching.

"Oh look at that!" Beyond cooed like a five year old, watching as a liquid moved from one of B's flasks, through a thin tube, and dripped into another beaker.

"Etorphine hydrochloride," B breathed, crouching down and bringing himself eye level to the dripping liquid.

Mello couldn't help but stare in undignified horror, while at the same time, become intrigued. The man was a representation of Wammy's most fantastical failure. B was an icon of everything Mello could become if he went against the grain. Not to be misconstrued, Mello knew Beyond was an entity born from blood. There was no other way a creature like him could possibly exist. He'd heard the horror stories from Matt. But the notion didn't leave behind the fact that the system had fucked Beyond up something fierce. Now the man was fucking with the system by creating a drug eighty thousand times more powerful than morphine.

"You seem surprised."

Mello's scandalized expression volleyed back and forth between B and his chemistry set. "A – a – are you INSANE!" the blonde finally screamed.

B didn't even blink at the outburst. "Bit late to be asking me questions like that Little Dear. Besides, Dexter uses it, why can't I?" the man practically whined.

"_Dexter?_" Beyond was seriously drawing inspiration from a fictional serial killer?

B nodded enthusiastically.

"Screw you."

Beyond pouted, lying back down to watch his poison drip. "That's not very nice."

"You're not insane B," Mello grit. "You just want me to think you are. You're very aware of what you're doing."

"Which would be why I'm doing it, and I'm incredibly glad that you noticed." B rolled to his feel, literally tumbling sideways and over his head to come back into his, zen, frog manner of sitting before standing. "Now, if you'll excuse me Little Dear, I need to attend to some side business. Don't touch my drug!"

Well wasn't that more than a little too perfect.

Warily Mello moved to the ballroom's entrance. Peering across the threshold he glanced down the hallway but Beyond was already gone, though a faint cackle could be heard as the man no doubt skipped away. Shaking his head Mello turned to his Idiots Brigade and motioned them into the large room. "I don't know how much time we've got, so just tell me you got it all."

Idiot Number Two nodded furtively, pulling a stack of papers out from beneath his shirt. Mello didn't take much time thinking on how unhygienic it was for the man to stow the papers on his chest, but ignored the slight repulsion and grabbed the papers. Leafing through them he dropped to the floor aside Beyond's still dripping tranquilizer. The Idiots remained standing, looking over the blonde's shoulder.

"Huh, that was easier than I thought."

"What?" Number Two leaned over, eyes roaming across the telephone numbers the hotel phone line had recently connected with.

"Well he normally uses a cell phone," Mello explained, more to himself than to His Idiots, they were more furniture than anything else. "Not a record I'd have access to. It was a leap of faith to think he'd call from the hotel's land line. But he did, always the same number, at least once a day. Hell he's made calls without my even seeing him do so!"

"That's good isn't it?" Number One asked, somewhat concerned over Mello's lack of enthusiasm.

"Good if you think taking the poisoned milk from the cat killer is good," Mello retorted.

"You mean he knew you'd look."

Mello shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm calling." He turned to Number Two. "Give me your phone."

Number Two jerked back as if the request had slapped him across the face. "So you can call this bastard's accomplice? Fuck no."

"Language!" Mello snapped. "I'm an impressionable teenager. Now give me the stupid, fucking phone, one of you!"

"And what do you plan to say to whoever the hell answers?" Number Two demanded.

Number One, stepped back from the arguing duo, fishing through his pocket for the technological devise the captured teenager desired. It wouldn't appease his counterpart, but Number One's gut instinct told him that the kid was smart, smarter than he was at least. He needed to trust the kid's judgment, even if the boy seemed more volatile and reckless than level headed at times.

"Here," Number One stepped forward and handed Mello his phone. "It's disposable, I don't like signing contracts. So you should be fine to use it. I'll get some more."

Mello blinked, momentarily taken aback by the thirty-something-year-old's moment of common sense. And to think he'd almost thought both men lacked that survival instinct. Nodding in acceptance Mello took the phone, sliding it open and dialing the number that appeared on every page laid out before him. It was the only number that appeared on the pages. Setting the phone to his ear he listened to the dial tone and then the unmistakable ringing of a call connecting.

"Hello?"

Mello's breath hitched. "Darling?"

There was the sound of rustling, papers moving, and conversation Mello couldn't quite pick out, before the voice of Beyond's accomplice came back over the phone. "Now's not a good time. I'll call you back."

And the line went dead.

3B

L was surprised when his phone went off and the caller ID wasn't Light's, he couldn't help the slight wave of depression that moved over him when he found the voice on the other end wouldn't belong to his FBI agent. Not that he'd been waiting for Light to call. He could call the other man himself. He just didn't need to. Light was an asset, a tool, nothing beyond that.

Nodding and acting like he wasn't totally lying to himself, L glanced over the room. The number flashing over his phone was a land line, area code stated it was coming from somewhere in London, but it wasn't Watari, the man was in the kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder L checked on Near and Matt. Near was playing with a bunch of twelve sided dice, stacking them in a way that was geometrically impossible. Matt was on the computer, researching blunt force trauma. L didn't expect the boy to come up with much, but Near had insisted the pink haired teen do it. But neither of his wards were on the phone.

The cell buzzed again, silent, but on vibrate. L nibbled on his thumb, face scrunching in face of the unidentifiable phone number.

Hesitantly, he flipped the cell open, not entirely knowing what to expect on the other end. "Hello?"

"L!"

The Detective recognized the voice immediately and mentally scolded his mind for not having foreseen this occurrence. It was entirely in Beyond's character to pull a stunt as brazen as this. How B had acquired L's personal cell phone number on the other hand, that was a matter of minor concern.

He moved out of his swivel chair without a sound and walked to the bedroom. This would be a private conversation.

"Beyond." L spoke cordially, it wasn't very often he got the chance to converse with the criminal he was chasing. "Why are you calling me?"

Heavy breathing came over the receiver, long and drawn out, purposefully done. Beyond inhaled and exhaled five times before ceasing. "How was that L? Creepy enough?"

"You called to toy with me?" L didn't quite comprehend it. It was incredibly forward of B for the man to act as if he and L existed on a level playing field. Last L had checked, B was still trying to prove himself as a worthy opponent. And as far as L was concerned, the murderer wasn't, not yet. And he probably never would be, unless he killed Mello and disappeared before L could get to him.

No fucking way that would happen.

The sound of B's frown echoed over the line. "No, not to play. But I thought that's what I was supposed to do. I've been called your stalker more than plenty of times. Not too thrilled about that assessment of my character, I'm not actually obsessed with you personally. I just want to see you in a lot of pain. But, if I am your stalker then I need to make harassing phone calls where I breathe heavily over the line."

The honesty was painfully refreshing. That was, if B wasn't lying through his teeth, and L was pretty damn certain he was. With the exception of the pain part, it was only natural Beyond would want to see him in the throes of excruciating agony. L couldn't help but return the sentiment.

"What's your favorite color?" The Detective asked the first question that came to mind, and it was a stupid one. Designed to confuse and intrigue all at once. L grabbed his laptop and stalked out of the bedroom. The hotel suite was equipped with a laundry room which L had had Watari morph into a surveillance station. The room also had a state of the art tracking hub, not that L would have settled for anything less. Only drawback was that the room was more than a little cramped.

"My favorite color is yellow Mr. Twelve."

L paused as he crouched atop the washing machine, laptop balanced precariously atop his knees. "Mr. Twelve?"

"Don't question it, just enjoy it," B insisted. The taunt in the serial killers voice was poisonous and it seared down L's throat as if he'd just downed a barrel of Drain-O.

"My favorite color is red." L grappled with a chord, plugging one side of the mini USB adapter into his cell while the other was inserted into the laptop. Another plug connected the portable computer to the tracer.

"Red? That's interesting," B commented, the playful lilt to the man's voice growing more noxious with every syllable. "Strange choice for a man who lives behind a computer screen."

"You are referring to the notion that red represents an extrovert," L stated, not really paying attention to the conversation. He just needed to stall, get enough time to triangulate Beyond's signal.

"And you are an introvert," B concluded. He paused and L stopped typing, afraid of B hearing the unmistakable sound of fingers clacking against a keyboard. "So are you attracted to my Sweetie Jam yet?"

"Sweetie Jam?" L deadpanned. "That's a terrible nickname for Light Yagami." It made his stomach churn and L willed the computer to track Beyond faster. Light was his. Satellite images of London moved across the screen, Beyond was in the West End. Now he wanted a street.

B chuckled. "Then clearly you haven't licked him yet."

L's eyes narrowed but he didn't rise to the bait, instead he avoided it entirely. Two more minutes and he'd have a street address. "I have to say it's good to actually speak to you directly, though I'd rather we were doing this in person."

"Oh I don't think you're ready for that Mr. Twelve."

"I'm not?" Well that was insulting.

"Nope," B taunted, overjoyed, he seemed to sense L's displeasure, not that the Detective was doing much to hide it. "It takes a special person to deal with me," B stated mockingly, "a person with special skills. You don't have those skills yet. But I can give them to you."

The computer whirred onward, warming L's knees as it processed the signal, unaware of L's mounting impatience. "And how would you do that?"

"By giving you a little gift, crack Sweetie Jam open and I'll let you do with me as your dirty little mind pleases."

The monitor pinged with the sound of B's location, the corner of Regent and Mortimer. Mouth drawn in a line, L was out of the laundry room before he'd even realized he'd made the decision to pursue. Phone still pressed to his ear, Beyond's laughter spiraled around the Detective's eardrum as if the murderer knew precisely what L was doing. Already, the futility of his actions pressed against L's lungs, constricting them to puff out carbon dioxide and take in oxygen through sheer desperation alone. The chase had never been physical before, L'd never had to run to apprehend a criminal. The change was exciting, the gamble was tragic. He was going to lose.

But that didn't matter. L charged out of the hotel room, leaving a gaping Matt and a curious Near in his wake, Watari on his heels. The elderly man had some sixth sense, an L sense, he knew something was up, something relating to Beyond. Maybe because it was personal, because this was Beyond Birthday L was running after, letting the disquieting laughter lead him towards, that L didn't calculate, he just reacted and ran into the street.

Daylight assaulted his skin, chilly air prickling against his flesh while direct sunlight seared his retinas, but L ignored his protesting senses. He had a map of London ingrained into his brain alongside every other major city in the world. He knew where to go.

L didn't consider it a coincidence at all that the place he was residing in, Sanderson Hotel, was a corner away from Beyond's noted location. Maybe it was high time he changed hotels. But it made reaching the despicable bastard all the easier. He sprinted down the street. Watari was no longer following him; no doubt the man had decided on actually driving and would catch up with L when he could. The Detective dodged through the crowd, ignoring the glares and shrieks he was getting from pedestrians. He shoved through the crowd and turned off Wells Street and onto Mortimer, not even winded.

B could hear him breathing though, and hard as he tried to regulate the flow of oxygen, Beyond knew he was rushing. Probably made the damn fucker proud, the great L literally running after him, the idea just made L run faster. There was a three percent chance L would find B at the end of the street, the other side of that statistic had L banking on the fact that Beyond Birthday actually had a sense of self preservation. The latter notion had the Detective frowning, life would be easier if her could just run to the corner and kick the crap out of Beyond, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't likely to happen. What he would find however, that held promise. A clue was worth the physical exertion.

The laughter stopped at the very same moment L halted, sending shiver's of annoyance and unease down the Detective's back. Eyes, he felt eyes boring into him, coming down from all sides, he was utterly exposed. Beyond, in contrast, was hidden, obscured from L even as the Detective turned, bare feet grinding against the pavement, searching out the kidnapper. Apart from the people, pedestrians ignoring L entirely, B was absent.

"Come say hi anytime Mr. Twelve." The chirping voice rang enthusiastically from the speaker of L's cell as Watari pulled up to the curb, Rolls Royce window descending to reveal the elderly man's grave countenance. B was gone.

L lost it at that moment. Swinging around he chunked the cell phone at the wall, anger propelling the diminutive technology to shatter as it came in contact with the cold, cement. He felt like screaming, punching something. Anything, anybody would have made for the perfect target. Innocent or guilty, he needed to cause something pain.

"Uh…"

In a sudden whoosh every tense, violent thought L had entertained dissipated as he turned around. Light stood there, in the afternoon glow, looking incredibly unsettled. He was alone, seeming to have just emerged from the inside of the building L had used to murder his cell phone. The Detective floundered, dirtied feet rubbing self consciously against each other. He had just thrown a minor temper tantrum in front of the pinnacle of human perfection, there was no way Light was going to submit to him after that.

"Hello Mr. Yagami," L nodded as if there was nothing amiss with the situation. "May I ask what you are doing here at the…" L trailed off as he read the glass door's peeling sign. "…_London Police Office_?"

It was Light's turn to feel flustered. But L saw the box in his hands before the criminologist's synapses even began to form a coherent response.

"That's evidence pertinent to the Unnatural Flooring murder," the Detective stated, eyes glued to the box the gun was in.

Redness blossomed beneath Light's cheeks. Why the hell did he feel so awkward? It was a gun, not a marriage proposal! "I think you were right, about the gun being pertinent to Beyond's next target," Light said, voice not reflecting the slight embarrassment thumping with his heart. He'd been caught red handed.

L nodded, not quite knowing what to feel, or what to say. He'd just run through London, chasing down a phantom that wasn't even there. Running into Light at the very intersection he'd traced Beyond's cell phone signal to, that was no coincidence. However, Light seemed genuinely surprised to see L. The Detective also couldn't help but note how cute Light was when he blushed. Not that that was an important thought, merely a wayward thought while fifteen other lines of reasoning condemned Light for being at the end of Beyond Birthday's phone trail.

He bit his nail, the familiar flavor of his thumb tinting his taste buds. "We should continue this conversation elsewhere, off the public streets, and perhaps away from the Police Station you no doubt just robbed."

The younger male didn't look to ashamed to be accused of theft and L couldn't help but smirk at the acting, leading the boy down the street.

Light couldn't help but cast several glances at L as they walked, but the Detective said nothing, just slouched along with his hands in his pockets. He cringed as he saw the raven haired man's feet, L wasn't wearing any shoes, yet he was still as tall as Light himself. Clutching the box tightly, Light remained silent, merely observing the man he'd just stolen evidence for. Guilt, the size of a grain of rice, sat in the pit of Light's stomach over the action, but more than that he was worried over what L would do with the gun. Expecially if the firearm yielded no results. The Detective had just chunked his cell phone at a stone wall, such didn't speak of a stable mind.

Beyond was getting to L.

They walked until coming to a Starbucks, conveniently located on the nearest street corner. The interior was like that of every other Starbucks Light had visited, plush browns and warm reds accented by the scent of espresso and scorched milk. L took no time in stepping towards a large glass case, pastries illuminated and kept warm under a glowing, heat lamp. More enthused that a kid in a candy store, he practically raped the baked goods with his eyes.

"Can I get anything started for you?" A cute, blonde barista cast a wary look at L, casting helpless glances towards her coworkers who seemed equally perturbed by the Detective.

Either L didn't mind, or he didn't notice. "I'd like one Pain au Chocolate, that cheesy croissant looking thing," he pointed his finger against the glass, "a strawberry cupcake, a slice of chocolate velvet cake, two classic doughnuts, three marshmallow twizzle sticks, an apple cinnamon muffin, a lemon poppy seed muffin, that albino looking muffin right there, and a chocolate chip cookie." L paused, tapping his chin with his finger. "And I think I'll have a Strawberry and Crème Frappchino, extra whip cream on top, and for Mr. Yagami here a Caramel Macchiato." He finished with a joyful smile on his face, head bobbing up and down at the girl behind the espresso machine.

She looked like she wanted to cry.

Taking pity on the poor woman, Light stepped in. "You'll have to excuse my friend, he can be a bit over enthusiastic, if you could please just bag all of that, we'd really appreciate it."

The blonde seemed relieved to at least here from a normal looking patron, though she still seemed dubious about the large order. Light made a note to tip her a twenty pound note as he turned back to L.

"You know my coffee order?"

L's teeth abused his thumb as he watched the blender spin his frothy, fruit flavored coffee into submission, slight pout on his lips. "I am affronted Light sees me as only a friend."

"Were you supposed to be something else?" Light asked without thinking.

L sent him a doe eyed look of pure innocence and the words sunk in. Light congratulated himself for not decking the man he'd just committed a felony for then and there, instead he glared. Taking a pile of pastry bags from the barista L paid no mind to Light, instead heading for a table in the corner, between the wall and the window, that in no way could have supported everything he'd ordered. Handing over some cash, more than was necessary, Light took the two drinks and went to sit with the Detective who was already wolfing down the chocolate cake slice. It was an interesting site, one that had everyone in the shop staring. Gingerly, Light sat across from L, placing the box with the gun aside the cakes and doughnuts. Through the window Light spied a dark, luxury car parked a block down from them. Watari waved cheerily from beneath the arches of the notable Langham hotel.

"Why didn't you stay there?" Light questioned, sipping his coffee.

L glanced out the window, nodding in comprehension as he saw the golden structure. "They're remodeling," he pouted around his cake, frosting clinging to his lips before being expertly licked away.

Light tried very hard not to focus on that tongue and moved the conversation onward, the sooner he could get away from L the better. "I took a closer look at the victim's body, her nails were highly damaged, suggesting a struggle. She couldn't have had a gun in her hand until after she died."

L paused, cupcake half way to his mouth, thinking over Light's assessment. It was exactly the same as his own deduction. He couldn't help the small tinge of competitiveness sparking within his chest at that. He'd thought it first, deducing it from nothing more than a hastily taken picture. Light had needed the actually body in front of him to see it. Thinking like that may have been petty, but L indulged himself. Either way the boy belonged to him, employment wise at least. Light's win was L's win. Mentally nodding to himself L enjoyed his cupcake, listening to the attractive male.

"Honestly, I couldn't stop thinking about the gun after you mentioned it. It was the only item on the victim that made no sense given the way she was murdered." Light's voice was steady, contemplative as he talked, words coming as his mind pieced the puzzle together. "So, I… took it."

"Yes, I can see that." L peered over his forest of pastry bags to look at the nondescript evidence box. "Let me see it."

"What?" Light spluttered.

"I want to see the gun."

Light couldn't help but wonder if L was stupid. "This is a public place, L!" he whispered furiously, trying his hardest not too loose composure. "You can't take a gun out in here!"

"You can't steal one either, but you did anyway," L retorted, wide, black eyes boring into Light emotionlessly as a muffin fell victim to the raven haired man's appetite.

L made for the box but Light beat him to it. If someone was going to handle a gun in the middle of a Starbucks Coffee Shop it would not be the eccentric man with no manners and sense of decency. Light pulled the top off the box and examined the Rami Compact. The bullets had been removed from the firearm, along with something else. It didn't look like they'd need to shoot the gun after all.

Pulling the neatly wrapped paper from its evidence bag Light passed it over to L and covered the box once more, concealing the gun from any prying eyes.

L held the paper gently, as if it would disintegrate before his very eyes. Keenly, he read the contents through twice, sweet fueled good mood evaporating into the clouds hanging over London. "Why was this not in the case file?"

Light was wondering that himself.

3B

_A few hours later._

"Twice in one day, how lucky am I?"

Naomi ignored the sarcasm, but only because it was warranted. Even if her protégée was up to something, which really wasn't all that out of the ordinary for Light Yagami, her earlier call couldn't exactly be construed as pleasant. "I wanted to apologize about earlier this morning."

She could practically picture Light's trademark smirk falling across his visage. "Yes, I'm sure you do."

"Oh don't be that way Light, it's just…" She trailed off, fingers drumming anxiously atop the kitchen table. The letter she'd taken from Light's desk innocently sat to the side, directly in her line of sight. She must have read it over a thousand times already. The subject just couldn't be easily broached, and it was possible she didn't even want to.

"You still don't think I can handle him."

Light's statement caught her off guard and she floundered for a minute. "What? L, no I think you could kick his ass. It's what I trained you for," she said with no small amount of pride. Watching Light hand L his ass was an incredibly entertaining mental movie.

"I know I can handle L," Light shot back. "I told you so this morning."

Oh, right. He had… She ground her teeth together, glaring pointedly at the letter. Maybe this was why her superiors kept telling her not to pry into complicated wrecks.

"It's B you think I'll have issues with," Light continued, speaking over her pause.

Naomi swiped a lock of hair back, sighing. "You're not a field agent Light, you have a desk job." She leaned back in her chair, eyeing the letter critically. "You've only ever seen him in a closed setting, when he's chained behind bars like the animal he is."

"No."

"No? The hell do you mean no?"

"I mean I've already seen Beyond," Light said plainly.

Naomi didn't know how to react to that statement. There was something seriously wrong with Light Yagami, to willingly fly across the country for Beyond Birthday. Who was antagonizing Light and L by the sound of things. She wasn't the only one with contacts to the California penitentiary B had been holed up in, she'd checked. Light knew before leaving, before they'd both been alerted by a concerned prison manager, that Beyond was gone.

It just didn't sit right. Flying to London to catch Beyond Birthday, it didn't make sense.

"Please be careful," she finally said, dropping her head back to follow the rotation of the ceiling fan hanging above her.

Light didn't seem to believe what he was hearing. "You mean you're dropping the subject?"

_No._

"Yes." She picked the letter up off the table. "Do what you need to do, but promise me one thing."

"I promise I'll call you when I need backup."

She couldn't help but smile at the honesty, she could feel it, Light wasn't lying. At the very least, there was still some amount of trust between the two of them, he'd still confide in her at some point. Maybe things weren't as messy as she'd thought.

Or maybe they were too clean.

"Thank you," she breathed before hanging up. The letter bent over limply in her hand, the paper softened from being folded and unfolded dozens of times. Without even thinking about it, she started reading, even though the words were already imprinted into her mind, each letter a file in her memory.

_Raito,_

_You know what I want. I told you. I'm not taking that back. It is my deepest desire to give Sayu a world free of worry, a world where she is safe. More than that, I wish to give her a world where the family I know I will someday have with her, our children, and yours too, are safe._

_But I need your help to do this. _

_Know that, if you accept to help me in this foolish quest I'm about to embark on, I will not be able to tell you everything. Certain information is sensitive, and I fear that if you were to learn everything from the offset, my plan would fall through. Your brilliance is greater than mine, giving you knowledge would be dangerous._

_But I need your help. For Sayu's sake._

_If you agree, contact me. There's someone I'll need you to get in touch with._

_Sincerely,_

_Attach. _

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A/N:

I'm curious. What do you guys think of Hatchirou?

And note, you cannot synthesize M99 with supplies provided by your high school chemistry lab unless you have a very creepy/disturbed/is probably raping your classmates chemistry instructor. Hence the reason Beyond killed the hot teaching assistant.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note and I'm not making any money off of this.

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Chapter 16

Giovanni walked down the hall, pace brisk enough to be urgent but not so much that he'd raise alarm. And that was key here, considering everything he'd been doing today had been under the radar and well outside San Francisco's jurisdiction.

He didn't pause to knock, walking straight into Naomi's office. "Something came up."

The dark haired woman's head snapped up, regarding the younger officer as if his own head had just popped off. "You're kidding."

Giovanni shook his head, passing her the print off he'd just acquired.

"On a single word alias?" She took the papers, there were only two, completely disbelieving. This could either be incredibly good fortune or a really really bad, sick cosmic joke. Naomi was banking on the latter, things were never that easy. The universe was fond of proving that.

"That's the issue with old aliases," Giovanni said, shutting the office door behind him and taking a seat across from Naomi. "They become known. Your Attach was burned by the yakuza in 99. NPA suspected he'd been working as an informant, leaking confidential information to them."

"We'll we're better than the NPA," she commented blithely. "I need to know for sure." Then she glanced up at him, slightly displeased. "You only have a surname."

"Junko, yes. Minor criminal family, suspected ties to the Yakuza and Russian Mob, nothing proven though."

Naomi's eyebrows rose as she leaned back, reading the short report herself. "Why the hell would the Yakuza burn him if he was working with them?"

"That's where things get interesting."

"I don't like interesting."

Giovanni ignored her. "The Junko family doesn't exist."

Naomi stared at him. "The hell do you mean the family doesn't exist?" she asked, voice dangerously low.

Giovanni leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, mouth thinned in a line of unease. "I mean there is nothing on anyone by that name. No finger prints, no bank accounts, just a sketchy crime record where he's only suspected of having ties to the organization, not actually participating in the things they do." He took a breath, looking head on at Naomi, gauging her reaction. But there was none, unless utter blankness could be considered emotion. "I contacted an undercover operative," Giovanni continued. "He says Attach started dealing with the Yakuza in 97."

"So they kept his identity a secret after burning him?" Naomi shook her head. That made absolutely no sense. What the hell was the point of a burn if he was revealed to be part of a nonexistent family?

"Last record of him was when he was burned. Naomi, the report says he was only a kid. No more than fifteen."

"1999…" Naomi rummaged through the pages laid out across her desk, murmuring haphazardly to herself as she did so. Before Gi had come in she'd been looking into Sayu Yagami. The girl's history was one gigantic fictional read. Honestly, Naomi had no clue how to girl was still alive, how she hadn't killed herself or at least gone into a psychiatric state of complete unresponsiveness. Teenage girls just didn't come out of a hostage situation whole. 1999 was about the time it had all gone down. But what made even less sense was the yearly runaway report the girl's mother had been filing. The father on the other hand, Soichiro Yagami, couldn't seem to care less, and that was completely out of the man's character, or reputation at least.

Seemed Light had left a lot of family drama in a suitcase at the Japanese airport terminal. Family had some major baggage.

"What are you thinking?" Giovanni leaned forward, trying to read the pages spread over Naomi's desk.

"Sayu was kidnapped by the Yakuza…"

"You think the boy was kidnapped too?"

Naomi honestly didn't know what she was thinking. But there was a connection between Attach and Sayu Yagami. Between Sayu's kidnapping and Attach being burned. There was a connection somewhere in the muddled mess, damn if she wouldn't find it.

3B

Matt walked out of his bedroom and into the "family area" of L's new hotel room. There'd been no explanation for the move, though Matt suspected it had something to do with L's mad dash out the door earlier that morning. Which they still had no explanation for, and that kind of pissed Matt off. L was a fucking vampire, paler than the bright side of the moon. Matt had never even seen the man in direct sunlight. And that was because L didn't _do_ outside.

Unless it was for a case.

So Matt was willing to bet his entire videogame collection Beyond Birthday had been on L's radar hours ago, perhaps even in punching distance. Which meant Mello was on L's radar, and the Detective hadn't said a fucking thing.

Matt had to resist the urge to kick a hole in the wall of L's shiny new hotel room.

The internal hostility plopped down into the leather armchair with Matt. It was only then that he saw the carefully arranged and slightly disturbing place setting laid across the coffee table. He recognized that gun. "Where did you get that?"

The gun in question sat, disassembled lying neatly over a heavy duty, plastic.

"London Homicide." The detective didn't even have the decency to deadpan that response.

"You stole it?" Matt demanded, flabbergast.

"No, he did." L pointed at Light, who was sitting casually beside him at the dining room table.

That was another thing Matt considered kicking the detective over, Yagami's sudden reapperance. Though he quickly rethought the course of action, deeming it unwise as flashes of what happened last time Matt had resorted to physical violence rushed through his head. L had literally handed him his ass.

Near also seemed to be unappreciative of what L had brought home with him. "What is _he_ doing here?" the boy asked, for once sitting on an armchair and not the floor. His tone wasn't accusatory, but the expression leveled in the albino's black eyes was far from inviting.

"Well he has brought us valuable information and he's worked with Beyond in the past," L explained, eyes zoned in on the slice of cake balanced atop his knees. With the precision of a surgeon he speared the icing flower decorating the cake with his fork. "Any scruple I may have previously held for including Mr. Yagami in the investigation has dissipated as I feel time is running out. I also thought, since you think he's working with Beyond, you'd want to keep an eye on him."

Matt couldn't help but glance at the youngest of their investigative team, though one would have to be highly dysfunctional to even consider everything going on as _team effort_. L was a bastard. Near was suspicious. Yagami was a wild card. And Matt… he merely wanted to firmly embed his boot into the ass of the man footing the room service bill.

"You think I'm working with B?" Light asked, looking across the room at Near. "Good for you," he nodded his head in approval, a faint smirk on his lips.

"How is that good?" Matt, demanded, not that he was really taking the question seriously, he just needed to distract himself from murdering L. It sounded as if Light was mocking Near, but then considering the twerp's declarations, who could blame the man?

"Paranoia," Light chirped, trying and failing ignore L's tongue whipping frosting off the top of his cake. "I've never seen a good detective without it. Even when wrong they're usually right."

L smiled in agreement, or maybe he was just happy to have cake, Matt honestly couldn't tell. "So Near doesn't trust strangers easily, what are you paranoid about Matt?" the Detective inquired.

Pink hair fell into Matt's line of sight as he slouched into the armchair's cushions. "You. I don't trust you right now," Matt admitted tersely. "Where did you go yesterday?"

A glint lit in L's coal black eyes as he stared into Matt's own irises. If the Detective was looking for a staring contest Matt felt more than obliged to deliver. He glared right back at the raven haired man.

"I went to get the gun from Mr. Yagami," L said levelly.

Matt folded his hands across his chest, frowning. "And that warranted _running?_"

"It's good to remain in shape."

"L, stop it," Light admonished, taking pity on the teen and moving the subject along. "It's not the gun that's important. It's what was inside."

L's stare didn't falter from Matt's visage, but he did pout. "And that the police report conveniently decided to leave out."

"You sure it wasn't deleted?" Matt asked, hacking mind already whirring through the facts.

"I'm fairly certain it was," L stated coolly. "I'll need you to run a full scan of the police database, check for hacks and recently deleted files and then trace it if you can. But before that, take a look," he nodded down at the table where the disassembled gun lay. "Light and I already have it memorized. Do the same."

The underlying lilt of steel present in the detective's voice had Matt looking down. The gray of gunmetal smiled cheerily in the natural light streaming through the skylight above their heads. He wasn't too familiar with firearms, aside from the basic handling procedures. Mello had always been the one to get a hard on looking at the heavy machinery, Matt preferred the non-bloodied approach. Brushing his fingers over the barrel of the gun Matt pulled a neatly rolled piece of paper out from the tip and spread it over the table.

The paper was stiff, stark white against Matt's own knuckle-white hands. Surprisingly he didn't shake as he saw it, the calligraphy perfect B, hideous green ink outlining small, neatly printed words into the twisting shape of the letter. Turning the paper in a circle he read over the short note.

_Day Three… 5… 4…._

_Day Two… 3…2… _

_Zang, zang, uranium goes boom. _

_X marks to spot. Here lies M. _

Uncertainly Matt looked up at L. "Is this a fucking treasure map? Please tell me we're not going to go digging…" he didn't specify who they'd be digging up, just let the words hang in the air.

But L didn't speak, he just sat, crouching at his seat, steadily nibbling away at his cake.

Light however did answer. "It's a very specific Map," the man commented, eyeing it from where he sat. "I mean it practically tells us where we need to go."

"And where exactly is that? Last I checked London didn't look like the letter B."

The twenty year old laughed bitterly. "B wants us to go _to_ him, that's what the big B is for, the X is where he'll be, which is supposedly where M, who I assume is your kidnapped friend, lies."

Reassuring the information was not, but Matt didn't quite know how to approach the situation. Beyond's newest little puzzle, though simple on the surface, was a bit out of his intellectual range the deeper he read into it. He just wished someone would come up and say they'd find Mello alive, that this wasn't the last clue, that they weren't just being jerked around by Beyond sticky strings.

"He's very arrogant, isn't he?" Near had folded himself over in his chair, sitting cross-legged with his elbows resting on his ankles, chin in his hands. The chair dwarfed the boy's small frame, but his voice was incredibly assured.

"He thinks he can play with me like this, of course he's arrogant," L quipped.

"I meant the constant "B"s," Near clarified. "He's signed everything with his first initial. The sheer amount of pride he's shown in his work is overbearing, if not nauseating. Frankly, it has me confused, more than this immature note does."

Well, Wammy Boy Number One was having trouble with the note too. He must have been channeling Mello's spirit because Matt would be lying if he didn't feel a slight inkling of vindictiveness to see Near struggle with something for once.

God he wanted Mell back…

"Talk to Light," L droned emotionlessly. "He wrote the profile." And then the Detective drew back into his thinking shell, shutting himself behind an invisible wall of impenetrable thought.

Near faced his chosen adversary head on, face blanker than a sheet of paper. "The last crime scene was rather tame in my opinion, especially for a man of Birthday's tastes. He crowned the body with his name but no one was there to see it. No one saw it. He locked the corpse in a basement away from public eye. We and the police were the only ones to see his work. It seems out of character for someone that likes calling attention to himself."

"Yes… I'd say it was hard for him," Light agreed placidly. "Even when speaking with him he's theatrical, you see it in the sound of his voice, his over exaggerated movements. He would've made for a great Shakespearean actor," he smiled shortly, the expression barely reaching the corner of his lips. It disturbed Matt, but he kept his mouth shut.

"The first scene was incredibly public," Light went on. "And the sheer amount of blood was eye catching enough. The last one, it was quiet. Muted. It doesn't fit his profile."

"Which means someone told him off for making such a scene the first time," Near concluded as if it were the only thing to be gained from the information.

Matt on the other hand, was a little less convinced. "Because it's out of character that's what you think?" he retorted, staring at Near incomprehensibly. "How do you know he's not just trying to throw us off? Hell, does it even matter? That girl is dead already and we have a note in front of us point towards another potential victim!"

"And there's a possibility Beyond has an accomplice," Near argued. "Is that not also important?"

"It's not when it's just a theory!" Matt shot back. "Where the hell is the proof?"

Near opened his mouth to respond but L cut him off through a mouthful of cake. "Matt is right Near, you need more proof, but I like the theory. It would make sense."

"It also means that his next target's going to be bigger, more public," Light interjected pensively. "He won't stay lying down, in fact, chances are he'll be acting out with this one, if he does indeed have an accomplice."

L nodded his head, fork in his mouth. "Yes, I suppose that inferiority complex you tagged him with would spur that type of response."

"No," Light shook his head. "He'd do it just for the fun of it."

L glowered slightly. Maybe it was something inherent to all Wammy children, or just the ridiculously intelligent in general, but L did not like being told he was wrong. Although something else was present in the Detective's frown, something a little less bitter and possibly more… sad.

"Great," Matt snapped. "The man's one twisted fuck job. Now what's with the map? It say's M is here," he pointed to the elegant X dotting the top right corner of the paper, eyeing the letter as if it were radioactive. "Where the fuck _is_ there?"

"There is the end of the countdown."

Silence met L's bluntness.

The words bounced against Matt's emotional shield, but he held up, observing nothing more than a hefty crack in his mental defenses. Proof was now in front of him, and ignoring something didn't make it go away. Ignoring the obvious did not make the obvious any less noticeable, just harder to bear. L had just proven that, and in an irritatingly matter of fact tone. Only four numbers wound across the page, defining the outline of the letter "B" and ending with two. Simple, and yet it was frustratingly difficult to comprehend. "M" was at the end of the countdown, end of the countdown meant the end. Matt's mind, however logical, rebelled against the notion, green eyes churning violently.

Mello. Wasn't. Dead.

At least not yet.

"Is the note all the information we have?" Near asked. The boy was regarding Matt placidly from across the room, expression less hardened, though still lacking in anything resembling human emotion. "Last time there were also particles on the victim."

"Forensics says we've nothing like that here," Light said. "Plus, I checked the body, there was nothing aside from the bruising, which I'm pretty sure says nothing about his next target."

"So all we've got is a cryptic map with a literal deadline. That's not very reassuring."

'_You think?' _Matt couldn't help but think. "From when though? When does the countdown start?" If the countdown started the very day they'd found the hanging body Mello was dust in the wind, that was one percentage L could calculate all he wanted and it'd still come out at one hundred. However, Matt had a feeling the seconds had started ticking off the moment L had ran from the hotel room.

"Today, the day we found the note, it starts today." L made a particularly obnoxious slurping sound around his cake, which apparently had ice cream in it, eliciting an exasperated glare from Light.

"And what makes you so sure?" Light gave the raven haired man's ice cream an indecipherable expression, mouth thinning as L's tongue continued to make alien noises.

Aside from that L didn't answer.

Suddenly Matt found himself a new mantra. '_I will not stab my boss…I will not stab my boss…I will not stab my boss…' _Calling every amount of zen his chakras were capable of at that moment Matt took a deep breath. He'd let L get away with it, acknowledging the fact that L wasn't unzipping his lips and he was going to have to hack into the city street camera system in order to follow the man's earlier movements. So long as Watari hadn't erased them yet.

"Near, I would like you to create a profile and collect any further evidence supporting your accomplice theory. I'm intrigued." Okay, so L was opening his mouth but it wasn't divulge information, only orders. "Matt, I already told you what I want you to do. Mr. Yagami - "

"Is not a student and therefore will not be taking your lead," Light smiled cheerily at L.

"No, but I am the one signing your paycheck," L fired back without blinking.

Light's smile didn't even falter. "What do you think you are, my sugar daddy?"

"You're moving into the hotel room."

"I am not!"

Matt's head volleyed back and forth between the bickering duo. If he didn't know any better he'd say the two of them were flirting. Shaking his head, he stood and left the room in search of Watari. Clearly, the conversation was over and they weren't going to be discussing Mello.

3B

Matt found the older man in the security lounge, which was in fact, a lounge. A chandelier, crystals shinning dimly in the low lighting being emitted from the candle shaped bulbs, was suspended from the high ceiling, almost as large as Matt himself. Against the far wall, television monitor after television monitor was freshly mounted, the disarming scent of plaster still hanging in the room's air conditioned atmosphere. L had definitely upped the ante in terms of tech and it only cemented Matt's conclusion that Beyond had contacted the detective. The added security, which left Matt unable to even take a piss without having a camera shoved into his face… and on other areas of his body. Beyond Birthday was the only reason for it.

L's suspicion that the countdown B had _so_ playfully left behind had begun that morning further supported the theory. Only one event had taken place then and that was L running as if Death's cute, psychotic hellhounds were yipping for his ankles. Most likely scenario, B had called L and the detective had ran after the fucking cunt. It was an idiot move in Matt's opinion, the image of Beyond's body contorting at odd angles, crawling towards him across a dust covered floor, the man seemingly a very extension of the basement's darkness, it was a picture Matt wasn't going to be losing anytime soon. For L to go running towards_ that_ without informing anyone, it was stupidity in its finest form. Worse, it showed the detective was still being pulled around by B, like a lost dog on a leash, L had no fucking clue what he was doing. Unless he was doing a very professional job of making it look like he'd no clue what was going on in Beyond's mind.

The teenager threw himself into one of the tall backed swivel chairs that surrounded the round, oak conference table beneath the chandelier. Two love seats and a few arm chairs also shared the room with the table, but they were currently covered in wires and an array of technological devices that would have both Steve Jobs and Steve Ballmer drooling. Watari didn't seem to mind the mess though as he sat at the table, positioned directly opposite Matt, carefully observing the youth over a stack of files laid across the wood.

"Was it B?"

Watari's patient smile evaporated instantly at the mention of Wammy's second failure, but the elder man held Matt's gaze. "Did you not ask L?"

"He didn't answer. Smoke, mirrors, look anywhere but here, he evaded the question by hitting on Yagami."

Matt withheld a chuckle at the screwy expression that flitted across Watari's face for a second. Perhaps that wasn't something you were supposed to tell L's mentor, but it added some levity to the conversation.

"And will Mr. Yagami be staying with us?" The question came out surprisingly smooth for the rapid paling of Watari's complexion.

Matt snorted. "No sane individual would want to stay with L, but I doubt L is going to let him leave, and if he does it won't be unattended."

"Are L's intentions towards Mr. Yagami pure?"

It was Matt's turn to blanch and Watari laughed gruffly, causing Matt's cheeks to flush a shade of red equal to his past hair color. Talk about cheap payback. That was _so_ not something Matt needed to be thinking about. But he had to hand it to the old man, he knew how to play.

"You're better than L at evading questions." Matt called the bluff. The acting had been flawless, the elderly man's shock believable, if only for a second. But Matt knew better. When the individual occupying the same air space as you was a trained assassin, who also spent his time in a basement perfecting baby bottles, you paid attention. He kept his countenance blank, not emotionless, simply without the telling signs of distress. Picture perfect contentment and a healthy dose of one lazy ass sat over Matt's expression as he stared down L's mentor and pulled a PS2 from his pocket.

"Who do you think taught L?" Watari grinned.

Matt chuckled, swinging his legs to land on the table and engaging an alien in combat, Watari's brows scrunching together slightly at the display. "Good point, but I still want to know, was it B?"

Watari closed the files open before him, neatly placing them in a leather briefcase equipped with a thumb print scanner. Sensitive material, Matt's curiosity perked at the ears, but he held it at bay.

"I believe it was."

Four words and once more Matt was bottling his anger. That was the kind of information one shared with the class, even if their class was a bunch of degenerates in comparison to L's own intellect. He folded his arms irately over his chest, green eyes darkening to the blackness of a forest that never saw sunlight, fury polluting the irises. If he only knew what to fucking do, what kind of shit L was trying to pull. But it all came down to something rather simple. Resources, L had them, Matt didn't. Matt was nothing but a number three slot, barely good enough to be the Padawan Learner to L's mighty Jedi Powers. Thus, he didn't get a shiny piece of plastic like Near and Mello to spend on whatever he fancied. What he did have was a steel toed boot ready to be shoved into areas of L's body one didn't talk about in polite society.

He hated being at the detective's mercy. More so however, he hated the complete lack of trust L was displaying. L had never met Beyond, had never so much as spoken to the man. Matt _had_, and they were memories Matt tried very hard to repress. Matt was familiar with Beyond and Matt damn sure knew Mello. He could read the blonde like an open book. Common sense dictated Matt's knowledge to be a valuable resource, and thus, if L were a reasonable human being, L would share his intel with Matt, then maybe they'd find Mello before the blonde was a lost thought decomposing at the bottom of the Thames.

The silence of Matt's anger was stagnant. Watari took it in stride, leaving the boy to his musings, allowing Matt to make sense of the situation at hand.

"He used to hide under my bed when I was little," Matt said finally, his words softly muted. The anger in his eyes had dulled some. Watari wasn't the one he was angry with. Though a nice helping of blame could be placed atop the man's shoulders, Matt wasn't going to crucify the Wammy's House founder. It would be unproductive and a little stupid.

You didn't insult the man who prepared your food, especially when his chemistry expertise extended beyond the world's most harmful, yet non lethal, poisons. That was one case of diarrihea Matt was not too keen on.

Watari glanced down at the desk, his lips thinning in what Matt assumed was shame, but the shadow that fell over the gentleman's face made any emotion hard to distinguish. "Yes, I remember Roger telling me about it."

"I hit him with a baseball bat one night and the next day he tried to smother me with a pillow," Matt stated matter of factly, the memory set apart from his actual recollections, as if it were something that had happened to another kid, in another country. It wasn't personal. It didn't affect him.

Disassociation made acceptance so much easier.

"Roger said you were having a pillow fight."

Matt scoffed, denial like that was beautiful, if not concerning. "Roger says a lot of things. X told A when he heard B and I screaming. A came in and tried to strangle B with a friggen yo-yo, I remember the thing lit up like a spastic firework. Those two were whack jobs Watari. They spent five minutes trying to kill each other, but they did so with a smile on their faces. They were _enjoying_ it. Fuck, they_ laughed_. Did Roger tell you that?"

"Matt…"

But Matt didn't want to hear it. He was on a roll, and the venting train of repressed anger chugged on, full speed ahead. "Do you remember when X was adopted?"

Watari opened his mouth, intent on answering, but Matt was faster.

"You wouldn't," he shook his head, pink locks falling cynically before his face. "You weren't there." The words were abrasive, like sandpaper rubbing against the inside of Watari's throat, not at all the way Matt had been intending to speak to the man who'd sponsored him through eighteen years of life. Funnily enough though, he couldn't bring himself to care. "She told me when she left it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She knew she didn't have what it took to be L. And staying would've killed her, if A or B didn't spill her blood first. X wasn't anywhere in the realm of intelligence A and B occupied. She was happy about being adopted."

Strange, if he didn't care about what he was saying why the hell couldn't he look Watari in the eye? The man had taken a back seat in this entire debacle, B's newest string of murders, half the time Matt forgot he was even there. Yet, Watari was at the center of it all. Was Beyond Birthday not the man's responsibility? Was Mello, who was set to graduate that very year, not Watari's responsibility? Did they mean nothing to the man? Was he, and every other kid sleeping in a bed under the Wammy's House roof, nothing more than a piece of play-dough, poked and prodded with deductions, equations, criminal profiles, and IQ tests until they took the shape of L?

Matt couldn't say Watari's silence was helping his case any.

"When A committed suicide, B… he lost it."

Watari glanced up, eyes wide, but there was little regret in them and it punctured Matt's heart. "That I was there for."

"Yeah, a week after Roger's persistent begging," said Matt, tone even, noncommittal. The level, normalcy with which he was speaking surprised the teen, he applauded himself for that, even if the mental clapping was done to the bitterest of music. He was however punching the PS2 buttons harder than was necessary. "And then you kept him in a nice little padded room for ten months, nurses and quacking doctors going in, all confident, and five minutes later committing themselves to their own institutions. I may have only been seven but I still saw it, wasn't like there was much else for me to do."

"You weren't old enough to participate in classes."

"And that makes what I saw all right?" Was the man even capable of admitting culpability?

Watari sighed, aging twenty years instantly as he sagged into the chair. Apparently he did shoulder guilt, it just wasn't they brand Matt was looking for. Matt would never understand the man sitting before him and he really wouldn't ever want to.

"He's coming after you," Matt informed his elder. Not that he thought that little tidbit had escaped Watari's notice. But it needed to be voiced, maybe then the man would understand. "He blames you."

The response Matt got was not the one he expected.

"As he should, as you should, as A should." Watari straitened in his seat, grandfatherly smile gracing his visage. The mask the wolf wore when hiding amongst the sheep. "X was right. Wammy's doesn't offer a life of salvation, only select students can manage the atmosphere, the education, the pressure of living up to their own intelligence."

It made sense. In an all too destructive way, it made sense.

"I don't blame you," Matt assured, though Watari apparently needed no assurance whatsoever. He didn't know why, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to blame the man for everything that had happened. He wasn't some Holden Caulfield wannabe, he wasn't going to sit and bitch about the unfairness of life. There'd only been once core lesson to the Wammy curriculum, and it was simple to say, comprehension of it, however, was much more complex: Life wasn't fair. "But you're wrong. The first generation, you fucked that up."

"Language!" Watari snapped instantly, as if the admonishment were a reflex.

Matt shrugged sheepishly, internally balking over the notion that that was all Watari had to say to him. "And the professors, they put as through a lot of sh…" Matt caught himself at Watari's warning look. Suddenly something was very off about this conversation. "…stuff, they put us through a lot of stuff. But mine is the first generation where no one's tried to off themselves or run away. Speaks of progress."

"You're saying you have faith in me?"

"I'm saying I understand what you're trying to do. But we're still children, kids, immature hedonistic little beasts. Add on to that we've more IQ points than we know what to do with. A and B failed, epically, X got adopted, Y and Z… they did something with bio-terrorism I think. But compared to L, they amounted to nothing. What was the big difference between the way you raised them and the way you cared for L?"

And suddenly, Watari's smile was genuine, and heartbreaking. Holy hell was it sad, as the point of Matt's diatribe sank into the very air they were breathing.

"Would it absolutely, fucking kill you to come home more than you normally do?" Matt asked, eyes shining with what he refused to acknowledge as unshed tears. Tears that would not fall for Mello, for X, for A, hell even for Beyond fucking Birthday and L who had no fucking last name. Anguish for himself and a childhood that was too screwed up for words. And then there was the hope, an insidious little drop of hope that maybe Watari would make it all better. God knew Rodger had no fucking clue what he was doing as headmaster.

There was no answer from Watari though, so Matt got up, intent on leaving Watari with a newly uncovered burden, compliments of the shit Matt had just unloaded.

"Matt…" the voice came softly, but with a hint of a smile. "Language"

Matt bowed his head as he stopped at the door, a faint grin on his own lips, holding the PS2 up in salute. "Blame it on all the video games rotting my mind from the inside out. L does."

3B

L glanced at the door adjoining his room to Watari's. No matter the country, no matter the city, no matter the hotel, L's room was always adjacent to Watari's and there would always be a door in between the two, one which could be opened on either end. Even at Wammy's House, when L had been a child, there had only been plaster and fluffy, pink insulation to separate him from the man who'd saved him from the boredom. Watari had been his salvation from the lull, calling him, even at a painfully young age, calling him to the knife which brought excitement, the only prescription his mind prescribed to alleviate the boredom. Watari had saved him. L would not let B take that away from him. He wouldn't let B have the elderly man, he wouldn't let anything happen to Watari, not even a paper cut. L was fairly certain that if Watari sliced the pad of his forefinger on a trifling piece of paper Beyond would have been the one who handed him the paper, and from it, somehow, B would lend the older man a flesh eating disease which would consume Quillish Wammy from the inside out. From a single cut B would commit murder.

The amount of paranoia it took for L to concoct such a nightmarish fantasy was a talent L rather prided. It also warranted the construction of tin foil hats and a security system that would've made the Secret Service jealous, but that was beside the point. L wasn't going to allow Beyond anywhere near his mentor.

But how to prevent it, that was hard to determine when L had yet to grasp the plot Beyond was writing. Everyone was nothing more than a character in Beyond's little black notebook of pain and cruelty, and he was one sadistic author. L was past feeling the anger of his situation, instead he just felt cold, empty, and tired. Only days had passed and already he was tired.

He needed a break.

Spinning idly in his chair, the room blurring as his feet propelled him in dizzying circles, his nose twitched. The scent of burning flesh rolled in soft clouds of gray through the hallway door and into L's bedroom. L, surprisingly, didn't actually know what burning flesh smelled like, but he imagined it to be similar to the noxious odor migrating into his bedroom. And then L realized what he was smelling wasn't precisely normal. He was up and out of his room in a heartbeat. It wouldn't do to have just moved into a new hotel only to have Matt or worse, Near, burn the place down.

Foreseeing the need for a fire extinguisher, L darted into the kitchen only to skid to a halt at the sight which greeted his eyes.

"Uhh…" L stared as Light Yagami beat the crap out of the kitchen stove with a charred oven mitt.

At least nothing was on fire.

Light turned and instantly blushed, for once the actual emotions he felt showing on his visage. "Hey L…" he started awkwardly, eyes not quite meeting the detective's face.

Internally, L chuckled at the sight, the word adorable instantly springing to mind. Really, all the scene was missing was a gingham apron, maybe in cherry red… Snapping his mind off that particular, and rather dangerous, trail of thought, L grabbed the oven glove off Light's hand and with it quickly removed the pot from the stove's burning, coil surface, switching the stove off in the process.

"What, may I ask, are you doing?"

Light faltered, embarrassment shining in his widened, frazzled eyes. "Iwasmakingsmores."

L paused. "Excuse me?"

"I was making smores," Light reiterated, slowly, as if he had to force the words from his throat.

Smores. Melted marshmallow and chocolate sandwiched between two graham crackers. L's mind immediately supplied the information regarding the snack. It was easy to make, ridiculously easy actually. Making the treat barely even qualified as cooking. How the hell did someone mess up smores?

L voiced the question to Light and it brought a frown back to the younger male's face. "The marshmallows wouldn't melt!" he protested. "And then they just burned!" Light threw his hands at the countertop, skin smacking against marble in frustration.

L couldn't help it. He laughed. Light Yagami, the picture of perfection, immaculate, poised, and incredibly confident could not make a campfire treat. The notion warranted a fair amount of humor in L's opinion, the murderous look Light was shooting L however said otherwise.

"It's not funny."

L was quick to disagree. "On the contrary, it is quite comical. And would be more so if the scent of burning sugar and whatever else the hell you threw in that pot were not so debilitating."

Light blinked, glanced back at the countertop where the pot with the charred marshmallow innocently sat, and then glanced back at L. The urge to hit the Detective over the head with the thing was communicated telepathically and L relented, if only for the sake of his brain cells which would die at the onslaught of head trauma. Taking the pot out of Light's grabbing range he deposited it into the sink.

"Would Light like me to show him how a smore is made?" L asked.

Light did not miss the fact that he was still being mocked. "No thank you," he clipped. "It would defeat the purpose if you did anyway."

L's brow furrowed. "What was the purpose?"

Embarrassment and annoyance easing away as he leaned against the countertop, Light straightened. "You missed dinner," he stated simply. "And with your appetite, it was about time for you to be getting grumpy. No one wants to deal with you when you're grumpy."

Well that was unexpected. Though any explanation for why Light, who's only edible vice was caffeinated and took an average of five minutes to be made, would be compelled to make a sticky, sugar high inducing snack would have been beyond L's logic, this was not what he'd anticipated.

"Did you draw the short straw?" L ventured, still unsure if what he'd heard had been correct.

Light rolled his eyes. "No, unlike you and your children, I was raised with a basic set of manners. I was doing you a favor."

"I fail to see how burning down my kitchen would be doing me a favor."

Light threw a marshmallow at L's head, which the raven haired man deftly caught and popped in his mouth. Exasperated, Light began cleaning up the mess he'd made, which to L seemed to have required an extreme amount of energy if all the man had been doing was melting marshmallows.

Brushing broken graham cracker bits into the trash, Light admitted, "I've never really cooked before. Most of my meals come from takeout menus."

L stepped to the side and began gathering the marshmallows, which seemed to have happily exploded from the bag, and placing them into a bowl. "Light must really do well at the FBI to be able to afford such."

The profiler in question scoffed. "Why else would I put up with you?"

"Oh, so Light is only working for me to advance his career, it all makes perfect sense now," L declared, pulling back a drawer and removing a box of shish kabob sticks.

"Of cour… What are you doing?" Light paused in his cleaning, watching as L began to spear the marshmallows with the thin sticks.

Popping another piece of white fluff into his mouth L couldn't help but smile. "It truly does amaze me that Light has no idea how to do this. Here," he handed a stick to Light and produced a lighter. "Normally one would do this at a fireplace, but for conveniences sake we'll work with what we've got."

Abnormally quite, Light watched as L flicked the lighter on and the grasped his hand, directing the marshmallow into the flame. The candy sponge browned within the heat, the acute smell of burning sugar, much more pleasant than the fumes Light had produced earlier, wafted off the stick. Pulling the marshmallow back, both men watched as the white surface puckered, bubbling against the heat and turning into a blackened char. Quickly, L blew out the flame, leaving a trail of smoke to float off into Light's face.

"Now," L instructed, picking up a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate, "You place the marshmallow onto a cracker and with the chocolate and then take another cracker and sandwich it in between, which allows you to slide the thing off of the stick."

"Why are you doing this?" Light asked, staring at L as he removed the stick from Light's smore.

"Because it is utterly pathetic that you do not know how to make a smore."

Affronted, Light took his hands away from L, who for some reason seemed reluctant to let go. Carefully he examined the stack of gooey, stickiness. Chocolate melted down the side of the cracker, warmly dripping over his fingers. With a grimace he licked the sweetness from the appendage. L could only stare.

"It's cute too," he said suddenly, completely foregoing shame and professionalism.

"Excuse me?" Light stammered.

L's lips twisted into a smile that was utterly genuine and slightly childish and he moved in. He didn't know what made him do it. Stress, libido, or maybe the need to just feel something other than anger and helplessness, the need to be in control of something, not that he could ever fully control an individual such as Light Yagami, but he tried anyway.

Gripping the younger man's wrist, he didn't wait for a response, he simply captured Light's lips with his own, plunging his tongue into the shocked mouth beneath him.

The smore crumbled as Light tensed, fist crushing the treat and mirroring the sudden feeling of Light's brain imploding. Fuck he had better be hallucinating because there was no way L's tongue was in his mouth, massaging against his own, and damn if it wasn't good.

Stumbling, Light's back hit the marble counter, arching against it as L maneuvered his body against Light's. He wound his other arm around the twenty year old's trim waste, simultaneously pulling Light against him while pushing into him. Clothing rumpled, L relished the feeling of Light's hand combing into his own ragged locks of hair dragging his face closer to Lights, their mouths pressing closer together.

It was seconds, of frivolous release, of self abandon, of unyielding heat racing down L's spine. It was good. Too good, just one simple kiss and he was losing the ability to coherently think. And that had never been the plan.

'_Fucking stupid idea,'_ his mind thought. But his body, his tongue, they were completely separate from that thought, moving into Light, grasping for the other male as if he were a life line, something precious that could slip away. And maybe that was it. Light wasn't his. But goddamn he wanted the boy to be.

Light gasped as L nipped against his lower lip, the sensation engulfing his body in a thin layer of fire, icy enough to raise goose bumps yet maddeningly hot. It was like bathing in dry ices. Searing, cold, heated, and ultimately filled with a pleasurable smokiness.

L's grip lessened, but he didn't pull away. Light was left blinking and panting as L's lips gently moved their way down his neck, fingers appearing from nowhere and pulling at the collar of his shirt. Light's head moved back, resting against the cabinets mounted to the kitchen wall and L licked, nipped, and sucked, and breathed. The detective took in the scent that was Light Yagami, lungs and heart constricting against it in contentment. Blinking, L glanced up at Light, taking in the ruffled, shocked, and pleasurable emotions shining in the man's eyes.

Yes, this was very bad indeed.

He was beautiful, stunning, even in florescent lighting which made everyone look pale and sickly, Light was perfection. And tainted. L could feel it, he'd kissed it, opened it up. He refused to look at it, but the scar was there.

One more thing he needed to save from B.

Sighing, he rested his forehead against Light's shoulder, their forms relaxing into each other. But neither said a word. Eventually they both ended up on the floor, backs against the countertop, leaning against each other. L's arm was still tangled around Light's waste, Light's own wound around the Detective's neck. Both were picking at the remnants of the crushed smore cemented via marshmallow to Light's palm.

"Tell me about your work with Beyond." L didn't know why he was whispering, but something had him keeping his voice down low.

Lips quirking up at the sides, Light's head lolled against L's boney shoulder. He'd been waiting for that. "You have the report, don't you?" he asked, popping a graham cracker bit between his lips.

"I've memorized it," L stated tonelessly. "But I wish to learn more."

"What more could there possible be?"

'_You creating a deranged plot with a murdering lunatic involving prison escape, kidnapping, murder, and a good amount of intrigue_…' Bleak as the thought was, L couldn't help it. Blame the tin foil hat he wore. The ties between Light and Beyond, L couldn't help but feel they were strong, stronger perhaps than even Light wanted to admit. He'd seen video of the pair's meetings, listened to recordings, and he wasn't lying when he said he'd memorized Light's thesis. Light knew Beyond in a way L didn't. The relationship, which had developed in only a matter of weeks, was distinctly personal. And somewhere in B's plot, in the story unfolding which had Watari and Mello's fates hanging in the balance, somewhere Light stood. Maybe not at the center of things, but his orbital position was pretty damn close.

L's arm tightened around Light's waste. Subconscious or conscious, L wasn't sure which the movement was.

"I would've been happier with a month long interview," Light said finally, in answer to the question.

L nodded. "I saw the request. In fact, I was the one who denied it."

He felt Light's muscles tense, but otherwise no emotion presented itself in the younger male's face. "That's unsurprising."

"Beyond was enjoying it too much," L informed steadily. "He was in prison, he wasn't supposed to enjoy anything."

"That was my fault," Light admitted. "I was young, naïve, I wanted him to trust me. Becoming his friend seemed to be the only way."

"And is that all you were? Friends?"

"Jealous?" Light quirked a brow, smirking.

L returned the smirk, pulling at the marshmallow clinging to Light's finger tips and winding it around his own. "Maybe. It would compromise the case if you and Beyond had ever been romantically involved."

"The case is already compromised," Light deadpanned.

L pouted, sucking the sticky, white substance of his finger. "Light is evading my question."

"Light is evading your question because the question is in fact, absolutely ridiculous."

"How so?"

Light turned, looking straight into L's endlessly black orbs, and smiled. "If there is one thing Beyond Birthday does not handle well, it is rejection."

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A/N: Yeah, I do fluff too.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I'll be honest, every time I sat down to write this I got distracted.

HOWEVER, I do come bearing, not only a chapter, but a bit of cosplay awesome. My darling BB-chan, Azeira, more commonly known as Shizuka no Taisho here on FFN, has done a brilliant cosplay of Pink Haired Matt! I demand you lot go check it out, tell her how much you love it. XD

(Just delete the spaces in the URL)

http: / / azeira . deviantart .com/art/A-Much-Needed-Smoke-Break-203910042?q=gallery%3Aazeira%2F4200558&qo=9

http: / / azeira . deviantart .com/art/Where-Are-You-Mello-203911197?q=gallery%3Aazeira%2F4200558&qo=7

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Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and thus no money is being made off of this work.

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Chapter 16

_They sat, shoulder to shoulder, in a blank silence. Emotions were not allowed in this game; furthermore, sound was inconsequential, rendering speech meaningless. But touch… touch was the grand communicator between the two of them. _

_Gone was the double pained glass that they had grown so accustomed to. Like a mirror, separating two distinctly different worlds, two halves unable to make a whole, not even sure if they were meant to. The glass had been the status quo. A defining characteristic. The glass could be touched, but never passed, never broken, never breached. One of them could lose themselves that way. And Beyond Birthday felt so dangerously close to losing himself._

_But then again, he was in a straight jacket. That didn't speak much for his possession of fully functioning mental capacities. It was also demeaning, but B had a feeling his Sweetest Jam liked it that way. The boy played rough. It brought a smile to B's face and he nudged Light with his shoulder._

_The ease of his escape had been a demonstration. To show that he could actually do it. There was nothing keeping him behind the bars. Leaving he could do at his leisure. B had always known that, the doctors on the other hand had not. _

_Light had though. _

_Light always knew._

_B rested his head against the college student's shoulder, nuzzling into Light's neck. The tickle of his hair against Light's cheek brought out a beautiful sound from the boys lips, a gasp, short, undignified, cute. B rather liked hearing it. _

"_I told you we could do it."_

_Light's eyes rolled down to inspect the tufts of wild hair cuddling against him. "What we? I did nothing."_

"_You didn't tell them," B pointed out._

_Light chuckled. The sound was bitter, but then B figured Light had a lot of things to be bitter about. "And what would I tell them? That you were planning to break out, again? I didn't know!"_

"_I didn't break out last time," B argued. "That was your idea, your fault. And I stayed inside the ward. No breakout necessary."_

"_Semantics B, semantics," Light drawled, a thin smile making its way across his face. B loved that smile. "Besides, I'm not your accomplice here."_

"_If you're not my accomplice than why are you not marching me back across the street into that hell hole?"_

"_Because that hell hole, as you so lovingly call it, is run by idiots. I'm curious to see how long it takes them to find you."_

"_To find us," B corrected. He wondered when Light would begin to understand, they were no longer separate entities. The glass was gone, no more obscuring each other from view. B could see Light clearer than he could any other individual on the planet and he was fairly certain Light saw him in that exact same glow. A halo of vision better than 20/20, it was crystalline. The rosy flush that descended over Light's features as Beyond stared, taking in the unblemished perfection of simplistic insanity. Light didn't know he was insane, or maybe he did and just hid it well, but Beyond knew there were portions of that soul so intrinsically shadowed it was hard not to stare. B rather enjoyed poking at those shadowy filaments, petting them, stroking, they reacted to the touch. Only he could make them happy, make them bubble to the surface and bask in the glow. _

_Sweetie Jam needed to understand, he was Beyond's now. The obsession was real and there was no backing out. _

_Light, oblivious to the thoughtful stare Beyond was directing at him, rolled his eyes. "Again, I ask, what _us_?" _

"_The kind that lasts forever," B whispered happily against Light's shoulder. Contentment was sitting in that little hill of dirt, hugging himself in the new straight jacket Light had bought him, the two of them counting down the seconds until the prison guards finally realized where B had run off to. It was one moment Beyond would have liked to immortalize, his sentimental side shining. _

"_How romantic." The sarcasm was bitingly playful and only had Beyond's smile widening. His Sweetie was happy too it seemed, if not a little bitter about the fact. _

"_You'll find I'm quite capable when it comes to the art of love." _

"…"

_B wiggled in his straight jacket, angling his head to better view Light. There was a grim line on the younger male's face, amber eyes directed straight ahead as if frozen in place. The stiffness was hard to miss, especially with all the cuddling B was instigating. The murderer sobered. "You are displeased with me."_

"_I'm not coming back tomorrow," Light informed blithely. Really that was all that needed to be said. He wasn't going to return. He wasn't coming back. B would be alone again. _

_It was a startling change of subject that didn't bode well. Or maybe there was no subject change there at all. In which case, B was annoyed. "You're leaving," he restated, cheek plopping with a pout onto Light's shoulder again. _

"_You knew this was a temporary arrangement." Light's voice was stiff, the words more erect than a plank of solid wood. "It's not like we could talk forever."_

"_I think we could. And never get bored. You aren't a boring individual Sweetie Jam, despite what you try so hard to show the world. And me, I _know _I'm not boring."_

"_Don't be too sure hun, the killing people thing gets old real fast." And now his Sweetie Jam was mocking him, how quaint. _

_B mocked him right back. "How would you know?" _

"_We all have fantasies. Some are just bloodier than others." _

"_Hmmm," B murmured. There was such truth in that statement. _

_The prison they observed was unruffled by the smooth California wind threading its fingers through both their hair. The stark, gray mass of concrete and caging steel used to look impressive, instilling thoughts of bleakness that terrified every new incumbent that entered, sporting sparkling chains and the latest in prison fashion. B's suit had been orange, one piece, and incredibly unattractive. It clashed with his eyes. He'd been hoping for something more traditional, black and white stripes with a bowling ball strung to his ankles. _

_The fences winding neatly around the perimeter, separating the criminal from the citizen, were electric, buzzing with energy. Or they had been before Light had cut the power. Nice to know the man truly did care enough to break the law. He'd known B wouldn't have had time to shut down the generator and most likely would have just cut through the wire or vaulted over it without care for the four hundred volts of electricity that would course through his body on contact. Both of them imagined the interior of the prison to be wracked with chaos. B _had _been delivered to the institution via L's personal courier, to lose such a valuable prisoner would not reflect well on the prison's reputation. _

"_I could see you covered in blood," B commented thoughtfully. "And Jam…."_

"_That's disturbing." _

"_And why do I think that way?" B asked. He enjoyed it when Light rummaged through his brain, picking and dissecting the organ. It was exciting to find someone understand him so well, if not a little erotic. _

_The college student's response however was less than satisfactory. "Because you're a sick fucker," he murmured, face twisted in an expression far too unsightly for the rather soft features in B's opinion. Something would need to be done about that. _

"_Language Sweetie Jam. Why are you being so course? This is a disturbingly foul mood." _

"_Gee, I don't know," Light sighed in a mockery of consideration. "Maybe because I'm sitting on the side of a road, in the middle of the day, with you, while the Prison staff runs around like a bunch of headless chickens."_

_Oh how his Sweetie Jam could lie. "I don't believe you," B called him on the bluff and brought his face closer to Light's, nose barely brushing against the other's cheek. "Come, lovely, tell your dark master what's bothering you," _

_That had an eyebrow arching alongside a rather pretty glare. "I'm leaving B. No matter how long you stall, I'm not coming back." _

_Now it was B's turn to glare. "What makes you think I'm not going with you?" The glare turned threatening. "What makes you think I'd even let you go without me?" It was more than frustrating, how little his Sweetie Jam really grasped of the situation. They were a coin, one in the same, each of their heads a finely minted carving on opposite sides. But one could not exist without the other. Beyond wouldn't let that happen. _

_They were one. _

_Codependence. It was dangerous, the thoughts B was having, as was the reality of the situation. But he doubted Light felt differently. From beneath the windswept fringe of unevenly chopped hair B regarded Light coolly. The boy was still staring stonily across the street and through the chain link fence which had really been too easy to scale. For the both of them. _

"_You don't want to go…" B realized. The murderer straightened, removing himself from Light's personal bubble and appraising the younger male critically. _

"_I'm not done here," Light replied softly, finally turning to look at Beyond, to actually show himself to the murderer._

"_Aren't you?" B inquired, not exactly understanding what Light was saying. "I find you've uncovered a healthy amount of information about me as a person. You know what makes me tick Sweetie Jam, you and only you." _

"_Is that a compliment?" Light smiled. _

"_No, merely an observation." B smiled in return, though it was anything but a friendly motion. B didn't do friendly. "You understand me now, don't you?"_

"_In a way," Light said slowly, smile grim, if not thoughtful. B liked knowing he was the one on Light's mind, and for awhile he was going to be the only thing on Light's mind. "Your motives have always been clear to me, even now. The reason you're not miles down this stretch of godforsaken road, I understand that." _

"_Because?" B prompted._

"_Because like me, you still have work to do. It's too soon for you to leave." _

_B nodded, smiling. His Sweetie Jam didn't want to leave him. As nice as that was, Light was right. It was too soon to leave. Way too soon. There were no pawns in play yet, hell he didn't even have any pawns _to _play. The chessboard was an empty expanse of a black and white picnic blanket with him in one corner and Light too hesitant to step onto the bored. There were only three others who'd thrown all their chips down on the table to mix with his. Two weren't even aware of the fact. And one could not play chess with only four pieces, no matter how good they were at cheating. It was too soon. Yet, everything was moving according to plan, just the way Darling wanted it to. _

"_I like you," B concluded after a second and a half of thought._

_Light rolled his eyes. "I thought I was a jackass."_

"_That's why I like you." _

_The men in white coats appeared from within the Institution, minute pinpricks of blankness, like tiny scraps of paper blowing wildly across the ground. And wild they were. The doctors - they had sent doctors instead of guards – were moving over the grounds of the prison in frenzy. Headless chickens indeed. _

"_Oh look," Light whispered, a cunning grin moving over his lips. "They're coming to take you away." _

"_Ha ha hee hee ho ho!" B sang gleefully. _

_Light stood, the graceful movement leaving Beyond to stare up at him with a mixed expression of triumph and annoyance. Light however didn't even look the murderer in the eye as he began to cross the street, not even pausing to look out for oncoming cars. They both knew there would be none. To B the sudden movement was an acquiescence of point, Light knowing he needed to leave for the very same reason B was going to be staying put. Which was terribly dull, only thing to look forward to was Spaghetti Day given that the dish reminded Beyond of slurping intestines. Both had separate directions to walk, and that was because they were one and the same. Tied together at the finger with a nice, blood red string. _

_However, his Sweetie Jam's little notion that he could just turn his back on him, that wasn't okay. _

_Not. _

_At. _

_All._

_The straight jacket fabric tore easily, Beyond had always been unnaturally strong. The sound of ripping canvas perforated the air as B dove to his feet, the arm strands of his hug-me-jacket flying through the air with him as he pummeled into the back of Light, tackling the younger male down onto the asphalt._

_B sat up, allowing for Light to roll over and face the feral grin plastered widely over Beyond's face. Light didn't flinch at the expression of clear, cold cut possessiveness burning in Beyond's bloodied eyes, he accepted it, accepted B, but not without protest. _

_That was to be expected. _

_B pinned his Jam down, ramming his hips against Light's as cloth covered hands slammed the student's wrists against the pavement, rubbing them into the black, tar for good measure. The boy would have cute little scars and bruises around his wrists the next day, B's favorite brand of jewelry. The possessive leer leveled at Light widened as Light winced in pain, but his eyes never left B's. _

"_Remember dear," B said, voice puncturing every word with a hidden threat and obvious passion. The murderer meant what he was saying, what he was promising. "I'm the one who's going to kill you." _

_Light scoffed, eyes narrowing at the man. "I thought we'd already gone over this B." _

_B smiled. The heavy footfalls of the doctors running towards them was suspended in the background of his mind, each step the tick of a countdown till he would have to let his Sweetie go. So he savored it. His head fell down into the all too familiar crook of Light's neck, the sweet scent of caramel, coffee, and jam filling his nostrils as he breathed in the essence of his other half. _

_Hands fell over his arms, doctors pulling him back. But he didn't let go of Light, he didn't want to. "This isn't a goodbye." The statement wasn't whispered and the doctors heard it loud and clear, but none so clearly as Light._

_B smiled as those pretty eyes widened up at him, and then he pressed his lips to Light's. _

3B

The fluttering motion of sleep filled amber eyes was accompanied by a less than pleased groan. Light could detect the neon of an alarm clock somewhere to his right, the fait light of the cursed devise refracting off the bare hotel room walls. It took him less than a second to remember he was not, in fact, sleeping in his own hotel room but instead residing in one of the spare rooms L had, the paranoid detective deciding it best to hold Light hostage. That however did not explain why Light was waking up a good four hours before seven AM. The wide, unblinking gaze observing him, however, did.

God he could feel those fucking eyes in his sleep, the stare alone spreading a pulse of electricity through his hair, raising the strands on end. Blankly, Light looked over his employer, the man he'd made out with in the kitchen mere hours ago. To see L sitting there, apparently foregoing the need to hydrate his eyeballs, hovering over his bed while he slept… well that wasn't awkward at _all_. Yet, to Light's sleep muddled mind, the poof of raven hair haloing over L's pale visage gave the man a distinct, baby hedgehog like appearance. Coupled with his terrible posture and chewing habits, it made for a rather cute picture in Light's eyes. If only the detective wasn't acting like a deranged stalker.

"How often do you watch me sleep?" Light asked softly, sitting up slowly and reaching for the lamp.

"Often enough," L shrugged, as if admitting to the possessive tendency was entirely normal. "I find it intriguing."

Light blinked. "You find watching me sleep intriguing?"

L nodded, leaning forward slightly, thumb still in his mouth. "You're peaceful, restful. Yet, sometimes you whimper as if in pain."

Light was unsure what to makes of the assessment. It was one of those moments where he wished he actually could see himself from another prospective, watch himself as he slept. Out of body, out of mind.

Taking in the bags and the darkened skin beneath L's eyes, it explained a bit of L's character. People were vulnerable when in slumber, unaware of everything but the dreams their minds threaded together out of boredom. L would rather work than give into such vulnerability, than admit to such humanity.

"I can't help but wonder what Light dreams about," the man said, genuinely curious.

"What do you think I dream about L?"

L's head tilted, a familiar sign of him falling into thought. "I suppose Light would dream about his past. His is more exciting than normal."

L wanted to discuss Beyond again. Light could suddenly see the burning desire to ask after the murderer in L's stance. But he wasn't going to go there. Not now.

"Unfortunate things happen," Light said, completely uncommitted to the conversation at hand. "With my father's line of work a lot of unfortunate things happened. I can't plan what I dream about, but remembering the events that way is a lot better than having them assault me as I'm walking down the street."

L hummed in agreement. "Yes, people would stare at you funny if you broke down in public. But dreams don't have to be unpleasant."

"I didn't say all of mine were."

"What are your pleasant dreams about?"

"What are yours?" Light countered. Personal questions. He wasn't entirely ready for those either, not when L had a motive.

L thought the question over for a minute or two. "I think it may be best if I show Light instead."

And then L stood on his chair and stepped onto the mattress, the soft bed dipping under his weight as he moved over Light's body to straddle the other's waist. Gripping the back of Light's neck with his hand he firmly pulled Light towards him, claiming soft, pink lips with his own slightly chapped ones. His tongue delved into the younger's mouth, exploring, mapping the very feel of the warm flesh and memorizing every taste Light had to offer. And it was beautiful, the feeling of Light's tongue battling, tangling, clashing against his own. The unmistakable flavor of passion that L couldn't help but mark as distinctly Light, it was exactly as he'd imagined the boy tasting. L knew he didn't have Light. Not yet. Not completely. But the willingness the boy displayed certainly spoke of L's chances.

Light responded to the kiss, the presence of L's tongue flicking down his throat and marking the territory as its own. He pressed against the detective's chest, basking in the surprising warmth L gave off, lithe muscles pulsing against his hands as they moved over L's chest, the soft whiteness of L's uniform apparel sliding comfortingly against his palms. It felt safe. Light didn't know how else to describe it, he didn't even know _why_ he would have described it that way. There was nothing secure about the way L was touching him, moving against him, the detective's sudden arousal grinding against his hips, toying at his boxers and eliciting a similar response. The rational side of Light's brain, which at that moment was shrinking and shrinking fast, clamored against the movement of Light's lips, nipping and sucking against L's own. Nothing good would come from this, no matter how blissfully serene Light felt in that moment, breath tangling against L's own.

The two breathed heavily against each other, moths still meeting, teeth still clashing, tongues still dueling, hands never ceasing to explore the curvature of the other's body. But their actions were slowing, the times they'd separate for air becoming longer until they were simply pressed against each other. Light's body was flush, pinned between the headboard and L who had no desire to let the boy go. L kept one hand firmly on the back of Light's neck, fingers toying with the light, brown locks, the other hand held over the band of Light's boxers, thumb playfully dipping beneath the elastic. And they stared. L gazing downward, Light looking up, the fall and rise of their chests perfectly in sync.

They stared at each other in horror filled anxiety.

Things like this were never supposed to happen. Light, however, didn't have the strength to push L off of him. Fuck, he didn't_ want_ to push L off. The weight of the detective was simply comfortable, reassuring.

"L…" The syllable fell heavily off the tip of Light's tongue, as if weighted down by chains and an anvil. There was a question somewhere in that single syllable, Light just wasn't sure what he was asking. Though the word _'why'_ seemed like a fairly reasonable guess.

L's wide, black eyes blinked slowly, contemplating something. Light could see the brilliant mind racing but he honestly had no idea what L was thinking. It was disturbing, as normally he could read the detective so well, not like a book, that would've been boring, but better than perhaps anybody else could. It spoke of how out of their depths they both were. Light was no stranger to physical contact, even intimacy, but when your partner was the Greatest Detective in the World things became muddled if not chaotic in Light's mind. He could only imagine the havoc moving through L's, whose social skills seemed to go no further than annoying the hell out of people.

"We have work to do Light," the detective finally whispered, sitting back down atop Light's legs, removing his hand from Light's waist to place a thumb between his lips. But he did not relinquish his hold on Light's neck.

"It's barely morning," Light protested, eyes widening at the thought of _not _being allowed to go back to sleep. Neither of them wanted to discuss emotions, and if they weren't going to be doing that then Light was going back to bed.

Irritation flashed over L's eyes, but it was fleeting. "Yes, but we are on a countdown. I believe Light has had ample time to rest and readjust his mind so he should be fully functional at the moment."

"So making out was just your version of a wakeup call?"

L had no answer to that, which made Light growl. Easily he pushed L off of him, scrambling out of bed and for the bathroom.

"I'll be out in five minutes, just let me shower," he called over his shoulder.

But L's sudden hand around his wrist made him stop and turn. The uncomfortable glaze on L's face was apologetic, something Light knew L was unused to feeling let alone communicating, especially when there really was nothing to apologize for, save confusion. Chapped lips pecked Light's own hesitantly before L released his grip and shuffled hurriedly out of the room.

Light couldn't help snorting in amusement. Damn detective was too cute. Smile softly sparkling in his eyes, he moved into the bathroom.

It was a record shower time for Light. He was out within three minutes, got dressed in four, so L was just sitting down to the dining table with a platter of chocolate, caramel cheesecake, fork hanging out of his mouth, eyes soaking in a large roll of paper, which took up most of the table. Light took a seat aside L, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he surveyed the map of London. Though it was more what was on the map that had him perplexed, if not a little concerned for the sanity of those he worked with.

"What's with the robots?" he asked slowly, fearing the answer.

"They are not _robots_," said Near, fixing Light with a very pointed glare. "They are _Transformers_." And then he began explicating further, the information making Light's mind reel. "This is Megatron," Near pointed towards a silver robot with fierce shoulder pads and claws. "He is the leader of the Decepticons and our representation of Beyond Birthday. Decepticons have red eyes and often transform into aircraft."

Light nodded slowly, noting that the silver robot, Megatron, was standing over the street Unnatural Flooring Co. could be found on, the last place they'd seen Beyond.

"These transformers are us, the Autobots." Light didn't miss the spark of pride in Near's voice as he said that. "We're the good guys, as shown by our blue eyes. We hail from the planet Cybertron."

L took a bite of cake, taking a moment to savor the overly sweet flavors before breaking into the conversation. "Near uses toys to assist his mental processes, in much the same way I eat sweets and you drink coffee," he nodded pointedly towards the cappuccino Watari had just passed to Light.

"I wouldn't need the coffee if we were working at a normal hour," Light grumbled, before raising his voice to address Near. "Why is there a Decepticon with the Autobots?" he asked, noticing that one of the robots had red eyes, not blue.

"That is you," Near explained simply, nodding to the cluster of robots he'd assigned their motley crew. "Undercover operative of Megatron."

"You're saying I work for Beyond," Light concluded.

"Yes," Near nodded, happy to see Light understood. "You've been befriending Optimus Prime, who represents L, when in reality you are trading information to Beyond. Rodmius Major, that's Matt, and Ultra Magnus, me, are suspicious of you, but Optimus Prime refuses to yield to reason."

"…" Light didn't quite know how to respond to that particular branch of information, so he took a sip of his coffee and tried not to burst out laughing.

"I don't know what Little Bunny Foo Foo there is talking about," Matt announced, coming into the room from the kitchen, soda can in one hand, an older gameboy model in the other. "This Rodmius Major has no idea what to think of you, other than you are intelligent and _way_ to pretty."

Near's mouth thinned as Matt spoke, but otherwise the boy remained silent, intently contemplating Megatron.

Light, anxious to return to planet Earth, turned back to L. "Is there a point to this beyond Near's playtime?"

"We are examining things from a different angle," L informed through a mouthful of cake. "A visual representation of events may in fact assist us in gaining further insight into the case."

"Did it have to be done with robots?"

"_Transformers,_" Near corrected with a scowl.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Near volunteered to set the table," he said, looking over the map in distaste similar to Light's. "We honestly had no clue he'd do this."

"Has it helped us find anything?" Light asked, ignoring Near and the obnoxious sounds coming from the cake slurping man who could have fathered the irate albino.

"Not a damn, fucking thing."

L let out a depressed sigh. "Is there anything on this map that strikes you as connected to the letter B left us?" the detective inquired, languidly licking caramel from his fork with childish displeasure.

Light scanned over the map once more, his mind quickly picking out every avenue and street he'd walked down since coming to London. There weren't many of them and most he wouldn't attribute to Beyond Birthday. The man's taste's were far from simple, in fact B could have a rather large flair for the dramatics if he wanted, a flair Light suspected Beyond would be sating with his next kill. The elegance and flamboyant nature of the calligraphy note B had left behind said as much. Which is why the area would be rather large, a stage fit for theatricality… a stage fit for a B…

Light's eyes were instantly drawn to the winding River Thames, which stretched across London. There was a portion of it, towards the eastern end of the River, just before it emptied into the North Sea, which his mind highlighted. The S-curve, or more accurately, the B-curve stood out atop the map, illuminated, taunting.

"Can I see the note B left," Light asked softly, standing and walking around the table to better see the river.

Matt nodded, picking out a copy of the note from a stack of files sitting at the end of the table and handing it to Light. "What are you seeing?"

"I don't know," Light answered honestly. His mind was far from working at full mental capacity, running only on caffeine and a smore from mere hours ago. Such was hardly a proper condition for one to be making educated deductions, not that the World's Greatest Detective seemed to care, but Light couldn't help but feel he was stretching things some.

Carefully he looked at the fastidious letter 'B' curving across the page and then at the curve of the river's east end. The center line of the letter matched exactly, the degree of the curve, the diameter of the swirl, the two images were perfectly congruent.

But it was a squiggle of a river. He could just be projecting. Yet, Light knew he wasn't. He was never wrong. Not ever. No matter how unlikely the case, or how desperately he seemed to be grasping for a thin, little straw, he was never wrong. In which case, he knew exactly where Beyond was headed.

"What are you seeing Mr. Yagami?" L asked stonily, tone suggesting that Light hurry his ass up and share with the class.

Light didn't answer, he saw no reason to do so, showing L would be much more effective and maybe he'd come off looking less like an idiot deriving meaning from squiggly lines and more like the renowned profiler he was. He grabbed a pen off the table and carefully traced the curve of the river bank before mimicking the calligraphy of Beyond's letter 'B' over it. The designs lined up perfectly, and the elegant 'X', written at the top of the note, marked the spot.

Matt's eyes widened and he tore the riddle from Light's hands, rapidly glancing back and forth between it and the portion of the map now shaded in black sharpie. "How the hell did you see _that_?"

Near and L's reactions were more subdued, as in not present at all, but their eyes were trained on the 'X' dotting the bank of the River Thames. Apparently they weren't going to question Light's deduction at all, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He'd been prepared to back the thought up vehemently, but that seemed to be unnecessary, and perhaps it was because L was getting desperate. It showed in the tension of his bad posture, spinal column tingling with duress and repressed anger. There was no time to question Light, and the possibility of Light being right far outweighed the possibility of him being wrong.

"Pull up that address," L demanded steadily, oblivious to Light's own misgivings. A plan was already beginning to form in the Detective's mind as he took in the areas surrounding the mark. There were less than forty eight hours until Beyond claimed his next victim, and with a plausible location to work with it gave them an edge, blunt though it may be. "I want surveillance from all street cameras in a two mile radius of the area and a detailed log of everything that's been floating down that river."

3B

It was like being a teenage girl waiting for the phone to fucking ring, and it absolutely was not a feeling Mello enjoyed. Didn't matter how many times Matt had told him his hair and constant mood swings made him look like a female PMSing, Mello didn't like sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring. …and his hair was fucking perfect.

"You should go to sleep Little Dear."

Mello shivered as the voice hissed pleasantly into his ear, moist lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

That was another thing. If the phone in fact did ring Mello wouldn't be able to answer it, not when he was caged in Beyond Birthday's lap being petted like a fucking kitten.

"If you want me to sleep than you should let me go," Mello gritted angrily.

B chuckled darkly, the amusement he breathed outward positively toxic. "You're not comfortable here?"

"No. You're bony and the stupid petticoat is itchy and there's just no fucking way I'd be able to fall asleep in your arms. The thought alone is disturbing."

B writhed slightly, arms encircling the blonde tighter, digging into the boy's stomach. "Do you really find me that repulsive Little Dear?"

Mello craned his neck, taking in as much of Beyond's form as he could view. The man was dressed rather eccentrically, a white, entirely too translucent, petticoat fluffing around the man's waste in waves of tulle while his normal, white, stained and torn, cotton shirt feel baggily over his chest. White combat boots completed the "look" alongside black fishnets. The man looked like a Lolita prostitute with scraggly hair falling in a deranged pattern over his face, obscuring dark, red eyes from view. At his feet sat his eclectic bored game, bright childhood figures scattered across the surface.

In a word, the picture Beyond Birthday made was indeed, repulsive.

Mello scowled, armed with a healthy dose of sarcasm, and attempted to extract himself from the cross dresser's hold. "No, really I'm madly in love with you Uzhas, this is just me playing hard to get."

B nuzzled his head into Mello's neck, laughing fondly. "Then let me catch you."

He was flirting with a murderer… fuck there was something incredibly wrong with him if he was flirting with a murderer. Mello's eyes went wide and he struggled against B harder, fervently, as if his life and sanity depended on it, which they both in fact did.

"Let me go B!" he exclaimed violently, clawing at the think fingers digging into his stomach painfully.

B's laughter floated throughout the room, an echo adorning the gilded walls and crystal fixtures with a haunting lilt. "Please Little Dear, don't fret. You're not my type," B whispered against the pale neck below him. "I like _brunets_."

Mello stilled. "Like L?"

An affronted sniff came from the serial killer, B's grip loosening a fraction, allowing Mello to breathe better. "L is…lovely in a way…"

Lovely. Beyond practically purred the word, treating it as something soft and erotic, like silk sheets pouring over bare skin, liquefied by moonlight. It wasn't vulgar, the phrase was longing, it's hesitance filled with a viscous curiosity, innocent despite the intelligence buried beneath its surface. It disturbed Mello, twisted his insides like putty, squeezing, stretching, and kneading his intestines until they were an unrecognizable mass of nausea. It was sickening because he felt it too, the burning desire for L, the need to uncover the mystery and claim it for himself. The simple idea of it all was…lovely.

"You hate him," was all Mello found himself capable of saying in response.

B nodded. "This is why I'll make him even lovelier. It may be cheesy to think, but that pale skin would contrast so beautifully with the cold, blue blood running through that man's veins."

"L is anything but cold."

B laughed again, but the sound was biting, caustic, like a cheese grater rubbing against Mello's ears. "You think he cares about you?" the murderer taunted, mockingly caressing the blonde's shoulders. "You think he's rushing to save you?"

"I'm second place," Mello scoffed. "He's not coming for me." Second place didn't matter, not even to the individual standing on the highest level of the podium. Maybe Matt cared, actually Mello was damn sure the pink headed idiot cared, enough to go looking for him at least. But L? L wasn't engaging Beyond for the sake of a child born in second place, he was opposing B because it was B. "He's coming for you. He cares enough about something to come after you."

"The alleviation of his boredom," B drawled automatically, as if he'd gone over the reason for L's involvement numerous times before and had become bored with the topic.

"No," Mello said, fumbling against B's hands, still trying to free himself from the man's skeletal embrace. "That's why he solves_ other_ cases. His coming after you, that's a matter of _pride_. His pride. Wammy's pride."

Beyond considered the idea in interest, inspecting the notion from every facet, staring into its brilliance with a microscope before reaching a conclusion. "Pride is easily broken. It may bring him to me, but when he leaves he will have none."

"You're going to let him live when he finally comes?" Mello hadn't expected that to be the case.

"Yes, because that will hurt him. He will hurt when I leave him, and after I leave he'll never find me again."

"He won't," Mello agreed. There was no reason the detective would be able to find Beyond after this, if he could have Mello wouldn't be wrestling with the murderer now. "He won't find you, but I will."

More laughter filled the negative space surrounding them, once more chilling and playful. "Oh no, Little Dear," B smiled condescendingly down at the top of Mello's head, "You'll be coming with me."

A soft buzzing came from the pocket of Mello's pants, and B stilled, glancing down at the small bulge. A knowing smile turned the corners of his lips upwards, filling Mello with a keen sense of dread. Adroitly, thin, spider like fingers descended into Mello's pocket and the phone was removed, pinched between two fingers. Green eyes followed the graceful, taunting movement with baited breath. If B looked at the number…

But he didn't. With a smile Beyond passed the phone over, kissing the boy on the cheek. "Here you are Little Dear. I'll leave you to it." And then he left, carelessly shoving the teen onto the floor as he stood, a psychotically amused grin on his face, which did nothing to quell the unease simmering the boy's gastric juices.

He waited until the serial killer left, a cute little tune being hummed from between his lips as he walked, petticoat swaying in time to the deranged noise. Beyond waved jauntily over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold of the ballroom, leaving Mello alone with the disposable cell phone.

B knew who was sending the message, and he wanted Mello to look at it. The entire thing screamed "trap" the way an uncovered hunting snare did. But Mello didn't care. The notion was more than a bubonic plague to Mello's mind, it was a ravaging, churning, cancer mutating and spreading through every corner of his mind as he worked at full mental capacity to solve the problem. Issue was, the trap had to be sprung before the pieces could fall into place.

Hesitantly, pulling his eyes from B's departed form, Mello flipped the phone open and read the text.

'_He'll be gone tomorrow. Call this number the moment he leaves.' _

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A/N: So? What are your thoughts?


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: It's been a month… ugh…

But thank you everyone who has read, faved, and reviewed this fic! I really appreciate the time you all take to read my work!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and therefore no money is being made off of this work.

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Chapter 18

"L… we've been watching this stupid street for nine hours."

Matt's whining voice cut, for the thousandth time, through L's stream of deductions like a pencil darting through wet paper. The teen's nagging sagged against L's own irritation, only augmenting the detective's desire to smash a hole in the wall. Despite the veiled aggression, L found himself agreeing with his pink haired successor. There wasn't much going on before them, the streets they watched were completely deserted. Nothing had happened, but the "yet" dangling from the end of that sentence was where L had perched himself, and he had no intention of moving.

"This is surveillance Matt, it takes patience and time," L droned, eyes unmoving from the television sets reflecting the afternoon street activity.

"Yeah, I get that," Matt said, effortlessly juggling four different Tamagotchi pets. "But what happens when we run out of time?"

"The object of this exercise is to ensure that doesn't happen." L nimbly twisted an oreo cookie apart and dunked the unfrosted half into his tea with all the care of a practiced surgeon. "We watch, and if we see something happening then Near and Light will act accordingly."

Matt's lips pursed as he punished one of the Tamagotchis for peeing where it shouldn't have. "Yeah, that's another thing I don't get. Why the fuck is Near down there with Light and Watari? He sucks at field work."

L had to tell himself that abusing one's successor would not improve said successor's mental performance, despite the fact that Matt had answered his own question. And by extension, if the boy strived to work out L's rational for why Near was riding along the River Thames in a pink crepe van, then Matt would understand why he was staying in the hotel room. Unfortunately, the gamer's laziness prevented such deductions from being made and that had L feeling rather incompetent mentor wise.

He'd kept Matt in the hotel with the sole purpose of teaching the teen patience. Based on the sheer amount of whining and the annoying beeping emitting from Matt's blasted, digital pets, the lesson was not going over very well.

"Near requires more field experience. He's too comfortable giving orders and having them followed. A result, I imagine, of Roger's stupid capture the flag games every Tuesday evening."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, Near likes to hijack the Wammy's surveillance center and command his troops from there. His team always wins. Except for the one time Mello made Hyde cut the power lines so Near lost visual, that time Mel's team won, but Hyde had to go to the hospital for second degree burns…"

"I remember when Watari received that report. He argued over the phone with Roger for four hours. It was quite amusing." L dunked another oreo into his tea before shoving the cookie into his mouth. "Either way, Near needs to learn to take orders from people. As for you, you need to learn how to do menial work beyond hacking, research, and field work."

"So this is an attempt to round out our edges?"

"Precisely."

Matt nodded, feeding another Tamagotchi so it would stop beeping at him. "I really don't see that playing out to well."

L sighed, he'd been expecting that response. "Why?"

"Because Near is with Light. The little freak hates the man, thinks he's the devil incarnate. Near isn't likely to take orders from Light."

"He will, because if he doesn't I'm not taking him to FAO Schwarz," L said succinctly, flipping the street camera view to follow his Angel Crepe truck as it drove slowly down the street. The misgivings at letting Light so close to Beyond once more, were bubbling in the pit of L's stomach once more. But then, Light had a role to play, L knew, if Light was a double agent of sorts, he wouldn't reveal himself as one, not yet. It'd only be safe to do so if he had both L and Watari in his grasp, or B's grasp more exactly.

"Oh you're a cold hearted bastard," Matt remarked emotionlessly, playing fetch with his digital dinosaur.

"You've no idea…"

Matt glanced up at the detective's toneless declaration. Common knowledge, L's lack of emotion was. Actually, it was legendary. The detective was the most notorious badass ever, mainly because he rarely showed any form of positive emotion, and when he was happy it was usually because he'd discovered a serial killer everyone else had overlooked. Not the most socially acceptable time to portray joy, but that was just how L rolled.

And Matt, Matt was going to roll right alongside L because he had no other options. Plus, strange as it may have sounded, Matt trusted L. Not because he was L, the Greatest Detective in the World, but because he was a Wammy. Born competitive, born to fucking take the crown. Every kid in The House had painted a bright red target on the back of L's head, and L knew it. Weather it was because they wanted to murder the detective or just surpass him, each child was going after L. So L stayed ahead of them all, he sprinted to the finish line. And he always crossed that line first.

Matt didn't think that was about to change. So he trusted L.

Matt swung two Tamagotchis around his index finger while the dinosaur ate little gray pixels happily. The pixels were supposed to represent food, but to Matt they looked exactly the same as the shit his dinosaur made during potty time… so really he could've just poisoned his dinosaur. "Hey, if you're taking Near to FAO, will you take me to Game Stop?"

3B

"It's a laser tag park…" Near stared blankly through the tinted window of the Angel's Crepe's van, bored and twirling a lock of colorless hair between his fingers.

Aside the petite teenager, Light rolled his eyes, stretched out over the white leather seat casually, completely at ease. "You said that already."

"I think it needed to be said once more."

He didn't want to, if anything silence was better than listening to Near talk, but Light asked anyway. "Why?"

"So the others can better understand the futility of this assignment."

"Assignment?" Light laughed at the term. "This isn't school kiddo."

"It is for Mello, Matt, and I," Near shot back, affronted. "And this _assignment_," he stressed the word, resisting the urge to narrow his eyes, "is useless given the fact that you are here and shall either distract us from discovering Beyond, or you've already informed Beyond we're coming and this is a trap."

Light was impressed with the boy's ability to keep up the innocent, evil, possessed child façade. Near's logic, on the other hand, did nothing to impress the profiler. Instead he found it petty and trite. "Your dislike of me is clouding your judgment."

"No it's not, I just have a better idea of how we can capture Beyond Birthday," Near said. "One that'll take less time than waiting around out here."

"What's that?" Light sat up straighter, actually looking towards Near with some amount of interest. "You should have told L."

The albino shook his head, turning back to stare out the window as the River Thames brushed past. "He wouldn't have liked it."

"What does it entail?"

"Locking you up and torturing you until you give us the whereabouts of Beyond Birthday," Near said unapologetically, though to give the kid some credit, he seemed unable to meet Light's eyes. Apparently some amount of humanity did exist within the diminutive teenager's blackened soul.

Eyebrows rose and a smirk fell evenly over Light's features, illuminating his visage with an expression of amusement. "Honestly, I'm not too keen on that idea. However, more than that, I'm a little disturbed that an individual of your age would suggest such a thing."

"You don't look disturbed," Near commented, appraising Light with his wide, china doll gaze.

Light didn't flinch. "I've been trained to hide it."

"I was raised in an environment where innocence was a weakness." The hand fiddling with Near's hair dropped into the boys lap to gather with the boy's other hand. He spoke with an honesty never before observed in his countenance, the words straight and pointed, transparent and yet disarmingly vacant.

Light nodded, already having gathered as much. Any establishment that could breed the likes of Beyond Birthday was also liable to create creepy little kids like Near, a neurotic gamer like Matt, and not to be forgotten, the sexually frustrated, pastry obsessed L. Light was afraid to seeing what this kidnapped, "Mello" character would end up being like.

"The idea of me working with Beyond Birthday… I will admit it has some merit," Light admitted after a moment of pensive silence.

"It has a lot of merit," Near disagreed. "You _are_ working with Beyond."

"You've no proof of that Near, and if I was, why would I have shown you the map to get here? You also forget, Beyond wants us to show up. He needs an audience."

"Hence, you showing us the map. I don't care if I've got no proof. I know you're working with Beyond. It just makes sense."

Light shook his head at the sheer stubbornness personified before him. At the very least L was silent about his accusations on Light's relationship with Beyond… and gave good tongue. But the latter had nothing to do with anything, anything at all. Near on the other hand was a rather annoying little twat, and Light was having a difficult time reigning in the urge to punch the kid. It was alright to hit L, L was a bastard and fought back. The albino sitting before him was a bastard and a _child_, it wouldn't look good to beat up a child. So Light smiled, brought up that charming façade that bothered Near so much, and repressed all homicidal tendencies.

"You don't have a lot of experience," Light critiqued, the casual tone of voice not aligning with the steel glint in his eyes, "With people or case work, so it's only natural that your logic makes little sense. You're relying more on your gut instinct and molding the facts to fit."

"Is that wrong?" Near asked without interest. "L uses his gut."

"To an extent its fine, I'm sure L would recommend it. I recommend it, a person's gut, a true detective's gut, is rarely wrong. But you need to be careful, taking the facts and twisting them to fit the outcome you want is not detective work."

"So, I should trust my gut that you're working with Beyond?"

Light nodded. "Yes."

"But you're not working for Beyond?" Near deadpanned.

Light nodded again, smirk now transforming into a fully fledged smile. "You see my point?"

Near blinked, his mind peeling through the information, processing it. "…The fact that you're telling me this only raises the probability of you conspiring with Beyond."

That made Light laugh, head tilting back against the seat, watching from behind a white lace curtain as Watari drove them along the Millennium Way loop.

"Either way," Near said plainly, brining the circle of conversation back to his original protests. "There is no point in us being here, driving in circles. The countdown doesn't end today, it ends tomorrow. B won't show up. Not even for preparations, as L seems to be think he will."

'_So now you're smarter than The Greatest Detective in the World?' _Light scoffed. "Beyond takes pride in his murders and he hates it when things don't go as planned. He'll want to make sure the timing is right and all is in order. Haven't you ever watched Dexter kid?"

If Near had eyebrows they would've been kitting together in confusion, but the boy had shaved them off in an effort to hide any emotional responses. Thus, he replied evenly, "Yes I have, and I find his sister Dee Dee to be incredibly annoying. But I fail to see what a children's cartoon has to do with Beyond Birthday preparing a murder."

"Never mind," said Light, lips pursing in amusement.

Near's gaze shifted over Light's. "You're judging me."

"You're judging me," Light shot back.

"Fair enough."

3B

"I think I just figured out why B chose this location." Matt scanned over his laptop screen, goggles arranged messily atop his head with one lens covering his right eye, the left uncovered.

L spun lazily in his swivel chair, two lollipops in his mouth while holding another in his fingers. "Enlighten me," the sugar addict said nonchalantly. Neither he nor Matt was paying attention to the computer monitors anymore.

Matt pushed off the desk with his combat boot, propelling his own chair to come closer to L's, Laptop securely perched in his lap. L glanced over Matt's shoulder at the open web browser.

"I was reading reviews online about the place B's map singled out. Bunker 51, the laser tag park." Mat couldn't help the squirrely turn of his lips as he said that. "You know they've got a fucking tank in there? The entire place is set up to look like a video game set. There's also a uranium mine, which was mentioned in the note, so that fits. But dude, look at this!" A series of images flashed over the screen, Matt's fingers excitedly hammering down on the laptop's mouse pad. Each picture showcased staged sets of toxic waste and rusting steel, illuminated by disarming, neon backlighting and very reminiscent of a poorly designed video game. "They don't just offer laser tag, there's paintball and air soft skirmishes too. I mean, this isn't just rec, it is a fucking video game!" And then he began to quote their website, voice augmenting in anticipation as he read further down the computer screen. "_You'll be transported to the future where you'll join an elite special force team, receive your mission, gear up with the most technologically advanced equipment, and enter into the adventure of your lives as you battle it out to save the world from imminent nuclear disaster."_

By the time Matt had finished his eyes had enlarged to the size of dinner plates, practically exploding from the sockets in his skull. If only L's patience were as large.

"Matt," L snapped. "I highly doubt Beyond is interested in challenging us to a game of laser tag so if you would please? Get. To. The. Point!"

Pink hair fell abashedly over the boys head as Matt yanked his goggles down so they could rest around his neck, but he didn't apologize. Hastily, the internet browser clicked back onto Bunker 51's customer review listing.

"Basically it's ranked as the second best laser tag establishment in London. Hell, people are even saying they use it as a backup plan for when Skirmish is closed or too busy." He glanced pointedly at L, as if that explained everything, which it did, to a degree.

The detective stared at the screen for a minute before deciding he needed cake, badly. "Walk with me Matt."

"Wha?" Matt glanced up, startled as L abruptly hopped from his chair and made for the door. "Okay…" Unplugging the laptop he shoved it into a bag and hurried after L, who was already stepping into the private elevator that took them from the lobby and to their suite. "Where are we going?"

L jammed his thumb against an elevator button a little harder than was necessary. "To get cake." The steel box jolted to life as crappy, jazz music filtered through an unseen speaker.

"Cake?"

Hands in his pockets, L slouched against the wall of the elevator and ignored Matt's question. "I believe you had something you were explaining to me."

"Well it's simple really," said Matt. "Who's the number two candidate to be your successor? Who is commonly referred to as _backup_?"

L nodded. "That's what I was thinking as well. Though why he'd do that, make a point of Mello's rank, I've no clue. It's inconsequential." And it was really getting annoying. Why was B, number two, the backup, so goddamn important to the murderer? What did it _mean_?

The elevator dinged open and the two genii got out, Matt following his mentor diligently as they seemed to meander through the hallways at random. "Hey man, I'm averaging an A minus in criminal profiling, that's why you hired Light. Ask him."

L turned suddenly and stared at Matt. "Was Beyond like that as a child?"

That actually had Matt laughing, despite the bitter flavor that accompanied the chuckle. "You mean completely obsessed with his name and rank in regards to you? Fuck L, have you seen the way the freak dresses? Although I'd say he's gotten better about it, less OCD more Gary Ridgeway."

They headed down an emergency staircase, L disabling the alarm without pause. "You're saying he finds murdering numerous innocents therapeutic?" It was a question, but something else laced L's voice. Like LCD infused weed, it was a toxic undertone, darker and indecipherable to Matt, but it gave the product a sharper punch.

Matt shrugged. "Not the most socially acceptable way of handling stress, but he's insane. I mean, I get the number two thing, but it's a fucking laser tag arena. He's playing games. Strange games, as if this isn't that serious. I mean, everything's completely random! There's a complete lack of reason behind all of it, aside from the victim's looking like Mello that is. And I thought we were looking for cake…" Matt commented in confusion. They didn't seem to be heading for a bakery or the hotel restaurant.

He'd followed the raven man through a set of service doors and was currently pounding down a metal staircase after L, hand trailing against the brick wall for support. L's pace was gaining in speed, though the detective refused to flat out run. Huffing, Matt scrambled through another emergency door, emerging with L onto another floor of the hotel. The scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, clinging to the plush carpet and warmly painted walls. Matt's hand twitched involuntarily as he inhaled, but he ignored it and followed after L, always three steps behind. Mentally and physically, he could never catch up with L.

But then, no one could keep up with L when cake was the mission objective.

"Cake." L paused in front of a wall, placing both hands flesh against the surface. "And I don't think there's supposed to be any reason behind Beyond's current actions, other than confusion. If there is, then his reasoning is way beyond mine, no pun intended. But I highly doubt that's the case. No, Beyond isn't really challenging us with the crime scenes. The feel of these killings is quite different from L.A."

Worried for L's sanity, but not brave enough to comment, Matt hung back behind L, letting the man run his hands up and down the wall as if it were the most glorious thing his fingers had ever come across. Nine hundred thread count Egyptian cotton, a flock of fuzzy black sheep, L caressed the wall lovingly.

"So what? He's just having fun?"

"If you'd been in prison for half a decade what would you do when you got out?"

…That was a good point. And B always had been a man of the unpredictable. But Matt still felt that something was off in L's voice, and it wasn't just because he was molesting a hotel wall. "You have another theory."

"He's demanding attention."

Matt blinked, taken aback. That had not been what he was expecting. "Attention? L, we knew that. It was fairly obvious from the start."

"Well, perhaps that's not the best way to describe it." L punched the wall, and the picture frame ten feet further down the hall fell off its mount. L blinked and then walked down towards the frame where a locked drawer was fitted into the wall. "But he's waiting for something. We discussed before that someone out there was displeased with B's previous acts of murder. B's actions may in fact be his way of trying to get us, or more specifically me, to see that individual."

"What? So you can catch them?"

L paused, staring at the lock that stood between him and his cake, ignoring the confused glances Matt was sending towards the back of his head. The question burned before L's eyes. _'Is it Light?'_ There was a part of L that wanted Light to be working with Beyond. He needed the younger profiler to betray him, hurt him, give him a reason to cease whatever the hell he was doing with Light. Not that he really wanted to stop seeing Light, but the rational side of L's mind said it was a necessity. A rather large one in the grand scheme of things. So it was good he suspected Light of being a double agent.

Only, he wasn't getting that impression anymore. At least not as deeply as he had before. Light was connected to B, he conducted a series of interviews and forged an incredibly strange relationship with the murderer. That was the only reason Light was a threat to him, Watari, and his successors at the moment. It was also why he was an asset. Lovely, how well that worked out. But Light wasn't the danger, he was just… a distraction. And an incredibly poor one at that. If Light were a double agent it would stand to reason he would do everything to make L "fall in love" with him. The emotional games would begin, human mind fuckary at its finest. But Light wasn't, that wasn't the game they were playing. L wasn't even sure they were playing a game.

"No, not so I can apprehend whoever the hell it is. It's so I can learn I didn't win last time around, not like I thought I did." L pulled a safety pin from his pocket and jammed it into the lock, picking at the thing, but it wouldn't budge. L growled as his mind reeled. He could feel his thoughts winding themselves into knots. Too many theories, too many possibilities, not enough facts, clues, data, data data. He needed more data… bricks without clay and all that.

The door to the emergency staircase opened suddenly and both L and Matt turned to find Watari heading towards them. "I had a feeling you'd be here," the elder man smiled, clearly amused. "I think you require this." He held a key before L's wide eyes, but the detective didn't take it.

Hands still pressed against the drawers, L frowned at his mentor. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Light and Near!"

"Near and Mr. Yagami are currently upstairs. I believe Near is stacking dice on the dinner table while Mr. Yagami said he was going to take a shower. Both boys came to the conclusion that it'd be useless to continue patrolling the area and agreed their time would be better spent here."

"You mean they _wanted _to come back here?" Matt gaped.

Watari smiled at his pink haired charge. "Something about not enjoying each other's presence."

"You mean to say you let them come back without informing me?" L demanded.

The harsh words echoed down the hall, punctuated by L's hand slamming against the drawer. Matt raised his eyebrows, stepping back from his mentor in shock. Watari remained unfazed. "I see why you wanted cake." He waved L back from the wall, placing the key into the slot and turning it. The drawer popped open with a creek, revealing a two layer, chocolate mousse delight with berry sauce elegantly drizzled over it. "Here," the inventor passed the cake to L and then headed for the elevator. "Now stop shouting. If Beyond was down there we didn't see him and he wasn't going to reveal himself."

L paused, cake in his arms, slouching moodily. "B won't reveal himself for anything."

"Except you."

Two heads shot towards Matt who seemed to be analyzing the wallpaper, apparently bored with the conversation. Somehow, it figured L would have cake hidden in the walls, Matt was no longer surprised or confused. And with Near and Light back, there'd be other people to work surveillance.

"Me?" L pointed to himself, eyes wide, cake cradled in his arm like a newborn baby. "Beyond would reveal himself to me?"

"He has already," Matt said. "He called you and you ran out, then we changed hotels."

L nodded. "Yes, but I didn't physically see him."

"So? If he called you it means he'll talk to you, and if he'll talk to you what's to say he won't meet with you face to face?" Matt shrugged.

Studying the cake, L thought the idea over. Meeting with Beyond was out of the question in several different ways. Dangerous, stupid, suicidal, and Light would be mad at him. Watari too, probably wouldn't be that pleased if L were to arrange a meet-cute. At that point, the only legitimate way for L to talk with Beyond was to be captured by B.

L couldn't say he was too fond of the notion.

3B

Focus was something L prided himself in. Focusing on a case, on a murderer, a criminal he mentally stationed just above 'common' because that was what it took to get his attention. L had a substantial level of focus. The direction that focus chose to go however was not always up to the detective, which was why he found himself sprawled over Light's bed, focusing on the ceiling above. He'd rained a bag of M&Ms over the sheets so the fluffy, white comforter now resembled a cloud with a disassembled rainbow over it. He'd been lounging like that for the past hour. Hand pawing at the sheet, L plucked a red candy off the bed and tossed it into his mouth, cracking the hard outer shell between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He focused on the chocolate and the ceiling.

That was until Light stepped out of the shower.

"What the hell are you doing!" Light exclaimed, scandalized, a tint of red coloring his cheeks. "Are those _M&Ms_?"

L lolled his head to the side, blankly taking in the sight of a mostly naked Light Yagami. He was 'mostly naked' because L, unfortunately in L's opinion, had wrapped a towel around his waist. There was also a fluffy piece of terry cloth wrapped over his head, like a turban, which L failed to see the point of, Light's hair wasn't_ that _long. "You spend an inordinate amount of time in the shower."

"Any amount of time in the shower is inordinate when compared to your hygienic routines," Light drawled, nose scrunching as he tool in the sight of L, M&Ms, and his bed.

"Are you suggesting I do not bathe?" L asked pointedly. "Did you not see the rubber duck in the tub, or the battleship?"

The deadened stare Light graced him with was answer enough, but Light enjoyed talking so he didn't leave it there. "Indeed I did and they disturbed me. I was half hoping you put them there as a joke."

"And the other half?"

"Was thinking about how much of a _child_ you are."

L nodded in agreement and popped a blue M&M into his mouth, inwardly smirking at the visible twitch growing in Light's right brow.

"Now," Light stomped gracefully to the dresser, a feat L found himself idly marveling at. Normal stomping was dignified, but abrupt and hardly as sinuous as Light's movements were. The slight sway of Light's ass probably helped that L suspected. Light turned and caught L's stare. "Stop gawking at me and get out!"

L blinked, mind taking a devious turn. "Considering what has transpired between us I think it foolish for Light to be concerned with his modesty." Actually, L wasn't sure he was comfortable with seeing Light naked, it would be another step in an entirely wrong direction, but he wasn't about to let the younger male know that.

Said male turned on the spot and leveled L with an indecipherable and rather perturbing look. "Fine, but at least pick the M&Ms up off the bed?" And the towel dropped.

L gulped. Entirely wrong direction. Tan skin revealed itself to the detective in the appearance of sinfully long legs and a toned torso. Light turned his back to the room and L finally got to see the gentle curve of Light Yagami's ass without clothing. Tight was the only word running through L's ingenious mind, those were the only two syllables his mind was capable of comprehending. Of course it only got worse when Light bent over.

A sharp intake of breath could be heard around the room as L's already enlarged arousal gave a painful throb at the scene before it. Light was such a bastard. Despite the inappropriate growl working its way towards L's vocal chords, accompanied by a burning desire L knew he could not, under any circumstance, give into, the detective couldn't help the disappointment that came as Light pulled up a pair of silk, drawstring trousers, covering his buttocks. Of course, it did not escape L's attention that Light still wasn't wearing any underwear. He was the World's Greatest Detective after all.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Light smirked at L who was hunching on the edge of the bed, staring at Light with painfully widened eyes. "The M&Ms?"

Knocked from his stupor, L glanced wildly down at the M&Ms and then back at Light who had turned his attention back to the closet and was doing god knew what. He didn't think he could collect the sweets fast enough. The silk pants had slipped low on the Light's hips and L balled his fist to keep his fingers from reaching over to touch. There would be no touching. Although if he didn't get out of the bedroom fast that last thought would be void, very, very void. Deciding the M&Ms were a necessary sacrifice he quickly made his way to the door before he did something stupid. Light could pick up the damn candy himself.

"Leaving?"

The question caught L off guard and he spun around. Shirtless, Light was still shirtless, coy grin twisting over his lips. L was fairly certain he was looking an open invitation directly in the eye, and it was rather easy to accept. He was L, an anti-social detective who spent his days crouching in front of a computer monitor and gorging himself with sweets. To say the least, he didn't get laid much. And with Light, the attraction was paramount.

"I should," L said honestly, firmly, but he knew it was a pointless admission. Light had clearly already made up his mind and L wouldn't be strong enough to resist. He didn't want to. He needed to give in, to lay aside the rational suspicion that there was more to Light Yagami than what the profiler revealed. The only way L would be able to formulate a plan against B was to cease thinking about Light and the possibility that the boy was untouchable. For that, L needed to touch, he needed to touch very much.

Light crossed the room, a small smile on his face that quickly became lost in the strands of L's hair as he rested his cheek against L's own. Soft lips released trembles of air against L's ear and the detective found himself grasping Light's bare hips, finger taking in the fresh warmth of the other male.

"Because you don't trust me?" Light laughed softly.

L chuckled in return, not even understanding why he chose that particular reaction to the question. "Because I shouldn't." And then he wrenched Light's head back, pulling roughly on his hair, and claimed Light's lips without remorse. He was_ L_. He'd wanted Light Yagami for the better part of days, so he was going to fucking have him.

Surprisingly however, L found clarity. Relentlessly plunging into the beautiful mouth tilted back before him, sucking and tasting Light's tongue fervently, his mind was whipped blissfully blank and he saw, thought, felt more cogently than he had in weeks. It was a high, a meticulous, wonderful high of logic and pure bliss.

He pushed Light backwards, already wrenching his own shirt upwards, breaking the searing kiss to toss the white fabric over his head before once more plundering deeply into Light's mouth. It was a wonder the boy wasn't gagging. And then gravity had them falling atop the sheets, M&Ms scattering over the mattress as they hit the surface. Separated by silk and denim, hips rocked in perfect sync and a feverish blaze of discordant harmony. Unrefined, and yet both comprehended pure perfection in the movements. Light ignored the feel of candy pressing into his back in favor of clawing over L's own bare, skin. Sweat was already beading over both of them and L went for the strings of Light's pants.

The silk, shimmering in the open bathroom light, was pulled down, and L moved with it, running his finger tips down Light's legs, which were smoother than the silk he removed from them. Tan, warm, he brushed his lips over the interior of Light's knee, spreading the long legs and pulling them forward to bring his lips to Light's thigh. Sheets pooled over the edge of the mattress, pulled on by Light, M&Ms scattering over the floor as well as into the folds of the fabric, a rainbow on white, the color from the candy bleeding into the fabric and over Light's body. L could see where some of them had stuck to Light's skin and it brought a grin to his face. Hooking Light's leg over his shoulder his tongue flicked out, scooping a green M into his mouth and letting the half melted morsel run down his throat.

An intake of breath could be heard from above and L glanced up to see drunken amber eyes staring at him in unbridled lust. "Forgive me for not picking them up as you requested." And he slid another between his lips.

Light sat up and L's eyes widened, long fingers gripping Light's leg, still hooked over his shoulder. Damn, the man was flexible. The FBI agent's other leg wound behind L, sliding the detective's body in closer, and the M&Ms shifted again. An arm fell behind L's neck and Light kissed him, tongue flicking into the detective's moth this time, absorbing the flavor of chocolate which pervaded the insomniac's mouth. A moan escaped the back of L's throat and he felt the smirk against his tongue.

Oh that wouldn't do at all.

And suddenly Light was on his back, pinned to the mattress, chocolate melting against his body heat, and L's pants were coming off. Little known fact, but L went commando. However, something L had quickly learned that evening, grinding against denim quickly left him feeling raw. The jeans hit the floor and their two bodies were skin on skin. Gripping skin, feeling skin, writhing against skin.

Obscene. It was truly the only way to describe the maddening beauty the detective had captured beneath his body. It was obscene, unholy, and so blessedly sinful L couldn't resist. He could not wait, his erection communicated that much to him with every painful throb it jolted up his spine. The warmth was collecting, pooling into a hardened need that desired immediate fulfillment. He stretched Light's legs open, watching the man's lidded eyes flutter at the sudden absence of L against his chest, and then realization hit in the same moment L rammed inside.

"Son of a BITCH!" Light bucked heavily against L, shout ringing off the walls, hands splayed on either side of his body as he gripped the sheets for purchase. And L thrust into him again, using the headboard as a means to reach further into Light's body.

Eyes narrowed with desire, he didn't close them, didn't even blink as he drank in the sight of Light Yagami's panting form beneath him. L couldn't help but enjoy the image, the sight alone sending more heat into his groin, while the sounds Light made just drove him crazy. Another thrust had Light's hips shooting upwards, meeting the movement head on.

Oh he wanted it bad. Auburn hair suddenly brushed L's cheek as Light shot upwards, removing his leg from L's shoulder to wrap himself around the detective's body. He used upwards momentum to take in the force of L's hips. Nails dug into the pale flesh of L's back and a keening moan laced through the air. He tilted his head back, L's fingers tangling into the locks of his auburn hair, and he groaned, the feeling of L inside him, moving into him, rocking steadily into his body roughly… God he was being fucked raw and every moment sent a dose of deliria straight to his brain. But shit, L was _not_ being nice about it.

He was slow, maddeningly slow and it was making Light a tad furious. L could see it in the sweat painted brow, the gritted teeth, and the shuddering body beneath him, flexing, hitching against his own hips in an effort to spur L's body onward, make it move faster. Light wanted to cease the wretched taunting and just be fucked. He'd felt that sweet hit come slowly and he wanted more of it, needed more.

And something in L made him happy to oblige. He moved faster, savoring the groans pervading throughout the room, unaware that he made up one half of the orgasming orchestra. He rocked into Light, taking him relentlessly, biting and sucking on the other's sweat and chocolate stained skin. L could feel the M&Ms breaking beneath his fingers as he drew them down Light's back, smearing colored candy coating and sweetness across glowing skin and towards the boy's wonderfully firm ass. He gripped tightly and jerked Light upwards, shoving deeper into the man he suspected of working with Beyond Birthday. But that was not a thought he entertained as he drove into Light.

Nothing. He thought of nothing save the feeling of skin on skin. The feeling of Light shuddering beneath him, around him, clawing at him, lapping at his shoulder in desperation, and the feeling drove L to completion. The detective fell over that edge, releasing a deep cry of glorious ecstasy into sweat drenched locks of reddish-brown, and he feel deeply against Light. Still inside he began to return the favor.

His hand clasped over Light's own throbbing erection and it was almost more than Light could take. Still reeling from the feeling of L invading his body, the heat flaring across his veins was infuriating, twisting, painful. Light needed the completion and L gave it to him, hard, with one painful jerk because Light had already been so close. L had sensed the younger man teetering on that brink of pleasure, ready to cum seconds after L would. And as always, L was not wrong. He gripped Light hard and with one last pump release came to the heart wrenchingly, attractive male propped against him.

After that there was nothing between them except heavy breathing and an acute exhaustion. Neither wanted to comprehend what had just occurred, they were too busy basking in the afterglow. Tangling his arms loosely around L's torso, Light pulled L down into a light kiss before two pairs of eyes fluttered shut and oblivion was met.

3B

When L woke it was to find that the clarity granted by sex with Light had not abandoned him. It hadn't been a fluke of the mind, addled by hormones and humanity in its rawest form. Sprawled against the breathing form of Light, L found his mind functioning at a capacity he'd not yet reached while working against Beyond Birthday. Perhaps confronting the emotions pulling him towards Light physically as opposed to mentally, as he had been doing, cleared his head of the matter entirely. No longer was it an issue. The concern now lingered in the back of L's mind, amidst the things he knew not to worry about. He'd made his claim. Now, he just needed to see if that claim held up against Beyond.

Something told the detective it would. If only he knew what to do…

L's attention was drawn away from B and into the dimly lit bedroom as Light stirred.

Soft brown eyes opened slowly and Light blinked owlishly up at his bed partner. "You slept."

L blinked back at his new lover. "Despite contrary belief, I do sleep."

"Those bags under your eyes could have fooled me."

"Prissy this morning aren't we?"

Light rolled over and glared. "I fell asleep in chocolate. I'm sticky."

"You also taste rather nice." L smirked as Light's cheeks flushed a cute shade of pink. The color reminded him of the darker blush that had revealed itself over Light's body only hours before. To make a point of his statement L leaned over Light and kissed his shoulder, fingers gently carding through auburn hair, tongue sliding out to lick at the faint smear of chocolate pained across Light's skin.

Hissing, Light pushed L off of him with a playful chuckle, but he didn't release the detective's hand. "L, I need a shower."

"Hm…"

"No."

"No?" L pouted. "I didn't even say anything."

Whisky colored eyes turned towards the ceiling in exasperation. "The only way you're getting anywhere near my wet, naked body is if you hide under the sink. You'd rather keep me covered in chocolate anyway."

'_He does have a point…' _L thought with a smile, watching lustfully as Light wrapped a sheet around his bare hips and headed into the bathroom. _'I could hide_…_' _And suddenly L was up, that last thought occurring to him in multiple ways.

Light glanced back, watching L practically jump into his jeans before shaking his head and shutting the door between himself and the detective. He'd ask L about it after his shower, when he was clean and L was less likely to drag him back to bed.

L was mildly miffed at Light's lack of interest, but at the same time it was a blessing. He needed to talk to Near and that was a conversation Light didn't need to be privy to.

Walking briskly from the bedroom, L found the albino sitting on the floor in front of one of Matt's laptops, feet kicking through the air, eyes intently focused on the screen. Considering the early hour of the morning it was unsurprising Near was the only one currently up. Walking around the boy L peered over the monitor.

"Dexter?" L asked with interest.

"Matt downloaded it illegally, along with a thousand other movie titles, some of which are not appropriate for minors in any country of the world. This one I found under the file "Melly Hates These," and for once I find myself in agreement with Mello. This show documents an extremely perverse form of justice."

L crouched down beside his potential successor, thumb nail already in his mouth. "If Dexter's perverse than what do you think of Batman?"

Near's attention turned from the screen to L blankly. "Batman wears _tights_."

"Not Bateman Batman. He wears an armored suit."

"Roger banned American Psycho. We're not allowed to read it."

L was fairly certain he wasn't imagining the forlorn look in Near's eyes as he made that statement. L also didn't really care, though he made a mental note to retract the ban, and instead got straight to the point. He didn't have much time.

"I want you to go through a list of every Wammy alumni currently active in the world, including students. See how many of them have a connection to Beyond Birthday, Light Yagami, or any of the subsequent cases Light has worked on."

Near reached over and paused the T.V. show to sit up properly. "May I ask why you're requesting this information?"

L pulled a half melted candy bar from his pocket and took a bite. "You may."

Quickly translating the statement into what L actually meant, Near nodded. "You are under the impression that Beyond's accomplice is someone who came from Wammy's."

"It would make the most sense, I can't see B getting anyone but a Wammy's graduate to go along with whatever he's been doing."

"He got Yagami to cooperate," Near pointed out.

It was rather difficult for L to resist slapping the child sitting before him, but he also had to resist slapping himself. He had directed Near to search into anyone connected to Light after all. Yes, L was a hypocrite through and through. Frowning, L started to formulate a reply that would please both Near while allowing him to continue sleeping with Light without guilt, but he was saved the impossible task by Light himself.

Toweling his hair dry and dressed in jeans and a cashmere turtleneck, Light threw a white sweater onto L's head. "You forgot something."

Near glanced between the two before picking up Matt's computer and moving to his bedroom, emotionless and without any clues to his thoughts. L was rather grateful for that. Shrugging on the shirt, he nodded his thanks to Light and headed for the kitchen.

Light followed after him silently, pausing in the doorway to watch L pull bags of sweets from the cupboards and stash them into a paper bag. "You're new plan involves a road trip?"

Not even sparing Light a glance, L took a cake from the fridge and put it into his bag. "What makes you think I have a new plan? This could just be surveillance provisions."

"Please," Light leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made L think of an overpaid model. "Beyond Birthday is the only thing that could keep you from barging into the shower with me."

"Jealous Mr. Yagami?" The thought had L internally dancing.

"Slightly, but the same could be said for me. Beyond has that kind of personality."

L's mental dance stopped at that declaration. Perhaps no matter what B would always have some sort of claim on Light, but L was determined to claim more of the profiler, to possess enough of Light that B was no longer a threat in any way shape or form.

Shoving another cake into the bag, which was ready to tear open, L turned to Light. The man was staring at him thoughtfully and L would've given his entire bag of sweets and then some to know what Light thought of him. He also knew, after what had taken place last night, he could have asked, and maybe the answer he received would have been the truth. But L couldn't bring the words to his lips, and he knew Light could see that too.

"Go rent me a nice car."

Light blinked, taken aback for a moment before quickly schooling his features into an expression of amusement. "We're not taking your obnoxiously pink crepe mobile?"

"I ran out of crepe mix, so doing so would be pointless. Thus, the bag." And then L deposited the bag into Light's arms before kissing him on the cheek sweetly. "Now be a good boyfriend and go rent me a nice sports car. If all works out we can break a few laws tonight."

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A/N: There are less than five chapters left.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: FFN has been giving me some headaches and won't let me respond to all my reviewers. So I'm sorry if I've been unable to get back to you. I really enjoy responding to your guys' comments and I'm looking for a way to do that. Again, I apologize for not being able to respond and thank you so much for your critiques, comments, questions, and support. I do really appreciate it.

As for the delay in this chapter, I've pretty much been cultivating plot bunnies, feeding them carrots and cleaning up after their messes as they keep multiplying. XD It's not that I haven't been writing fic, I've just been writing a bunch of different things, none of which are finished as more ideas keep streaming on in. So, expect to see some ficlets popping up over time from now on.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note and consequently I am not making any money off of this work.

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Chapter 19

_The bed was soft, larger than the one she had at home, perhaps even larger than her parent's. It was ornate too, wrought iron bed frame mimicking vines running up four wooden posts, each post resting at the corner of the bed. The sheets were plush, a deep burgundy that reminded her of the wine she'd snuck a taste of at her father's last work party. But this was nowhere near as happy an occasion. Instead of bunches of drunk business men, there was only her, balled up in the corner furthest from the bed. A television set was on, stationed within an entertainment center opposite the bed, __Akazukin Chacha playfully dancing over the screen. Despite Red Riding Hood's clumsy spell work, Sayu could not bring herself to watch the show, she couldn't bring herself to look at anything but her feet._

_A shadow danced across the light, orange walls of her prison suite, signaling the opening of the artfully carved wooden door. The door was locked most of the time, save for when someone came to give her food. But she never ate. She'd rather starve than give into the _hospitality_ of her captors._

_An elder woman entered the room and glanced around, eyes widening once she saw where Sayu had crammed herself. "Child," the woman snapped. "There is no point to us kidnapping you if you refuse to eat!" She was the same woman who always came, wrinkled face suggesting a beauty prior to her aging, but now the woman was nothing but a sour disposition who delivered food in Jimmy Choos. _

_Sayu curled up further into herself, burying her head into her knees. The tears had stopped falling three days ago. She didn't think it was possible to run out of tears, but she had, and her eyes ached from it. The desire to sob was still there, poking at her gut with a rusty needle, the metal reacting to the acid of her empty stomach. But she couldn't, no salted water ran from her irises, she was a dry desert, lips chapped, mouth craving for liquid, skin rougher than sand paper, and her eyes had no tears. _

_The woman stalked over to her and sat before Sayu, mirroring the young girls huddled pose. The gilded platter rustled softly as it was placed on top of the thick Persian rug. A crystal bowl filled with Udon and a porcelain cup of tea decorated the place setting. Sayu stared at the tray, wishing there was more than just food separating her from the foul woman hovering over her. Soup didn't make for much of a shield. _

_The woman sighed and lazily began spinning the Udon ladle around the soup. "You know what happens if you don't eat darling?" The woman asked, dark, straight hair cascading over her shoulder in a lackluster curtain. The voice the woman employed was kind, gentle, the type of voice a mother used to coerce a child into eating their vegetables. But Sayu knew any maternal instinct the woman displayed was a fabrication. _

_A middle aged hand reached out, petting Sayu's hair. "Sweetie, do you know what happens if you don't eat?"_

_It hit Sayu rather abruptly that the woman wasn't going to leave soon. Probably not until she ate the Udon. Having a half starved hostage wasn't going to bring ransom prices up, and if she died it would only be worse. A hiccup shot up her throat suddenly as the thought of her withered body took form, her family huddled over a grave, a picture frame with her too young face decorated by chrysanthemums and lotus flowers. Her mother, father… her brother… She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be here. And she didn't want to be near this woman anymore._

"_I want to go home…"_

_The woman's hand stopped its petting motion, stilling over Sayu's head. "What?"_

_Eyes wide with fear and pleading, it was the most undignified Sayu had ever felt. "Home," she repeated softly, voice scratchy from lack of sustenance. "I want to go home. Please, please let me go home."_

"_Oh sweetie," Sayu flinched as the woman's manicured nails scratched roughly against her scalp, jerking her head upwards. "You can't go home if you won't eat!" And Sayu was jerked forward, suddenly falling over the soup and tea, hot liquid splattering over her clothing and scalding her skin, forcing a dried out moan past chapped lips. "Because when you don't eat, you die!" With that, the woman was up, more agile than her age made her appear, dragging Sayu by her hair and throwing her onto the ground in the center of the room._

_Sayu rolled over the floor, whimpering, but still no tears came forth. She could see the bright colors of animated cartoons flashing behind the hair that had covered her face, a high pitched squeal breaking through the television's softened tones. And then a set of expensive shoes straddled her head and she was flung to her feat. The woman was stronger than she looked, faster than she looked, and it all made Sayu's head spin. _

_Nothing like this had happened before. In one week she'd been held captive, hostage, kidnapped, stolen, but never manhandled like a sack of potatoes. Treated like garbage, a nothing, a lost coin that was worthless on its own. Her kidnappers had never made her feel worthless. There had only been the rational fear that she would never go home again, and that had been why she cried, why she lost her tears. But now, now the feeling was so _very_ different. _

_Now she was actually afraid of the people that had taken her. _

_Hair was brushed back from her face, revealing wide eyes to the woman standing over her, pulling on her hair to keep her upright on her knees. The woman leaned over and brushed, sticky, gloss covered lips over Sayu's cheek and the young girl couldn't contain the whimper. She shuddered against the hot, minty breath running down her neck, wanting nothing more than to shut her eyes and block out what she didn't understand. Because she couldn't comprehend what was happening. She'd done nothing wrong. She'd been a good child, she listened to her mother and father, she ate her peas and corn, she cleaned her room and did her chores, so why was this happening to her?_

_The woman seemed to sense the questioning monologue running through Sayu's eyes, and it made her grimace. Face morphing into something ugly no amount of makeup could cure, cold fingers pinched Sayu's chin and held her head straight at the television set while crimson lips spoke harshly into her ear. _

"_If you don't want to eat," the woman said lowly, "then you must want to _die_." Fingers scraped down Sayu's neck, a knife was pulled from the interior of the woman's jacket and suddenly Sayu was able to cry again. _

"_Oh my god," she shuddered, tears leaking down her face, endless streams pouring from her freshly torn tear ducts. "…." The one word mantra rushed off of her tongue, wide eyes trained solely on the tool that could slit her throat._

_Swiftly the room became stifling, hot and humid with the roughness of her sobs, body jerking with the motion of her heaving lungs and blurring vision. Scalding fingers ran down her throat, pulling her chin up until she lost view of the television set, nails pressing little crescent moons into her skin. The whimpering never stopped, her pleading never stopped._

"_Please please, oh my god… please please please… please…"_

_Soft laughter filtered through Sayu's violent cries as lips pressed against her burning, tear soaked cheek. "Please what sweetie? Please what? Let you go?" The woman's laughter became sharper than the dagger she pressed against Sayu's stomach. "There is no point in letting you go if you starve yourself to death. Did you calculate that in with your rampant pride?"_

_Blood blossomed through the fabric of Sayu's shirt and a hallowed scream erupted from the young girl's chest. There was no break between her tears now, just a steady rush of salted water, warmed by the fever rising in her head. No end, no stopping, just the continuation of pain as the knife drew a clean slash over her chest, ripping her tattered clothing open to let the blood flow freely. The rug was stained beyond repair so she began to struggle. _

_Everything was suddenly louder. Her heart pounded like a wild animal wanting to burst through the bars of a cage that was her ribs. The television was strident, large screen glaringly bright against the warm glow of the chandelier hanging daintily over Sayu's bleeding form. Her hearing was growing more acute as more blood ran down her stomach, pain drowning out all her other senses. The cuts weren't deep, shallow, but her skin was still open, oppressive air brushing against it and pulling the blood from her body. _

_She felt lightheaded as she thrashed, broken fingernails clawing viciously, the waving of her head, pulling against the tight grip exposing her neck, it made her brain swim. She didn't understand anything beyond the pain and the laughter of a magical girl on a television screen. She didn't understand what she'd done wrong, who these people were, why they had taken her. She was just a girl, a stupid, little girl. _

_Her cries were no longer desperate, no longer coherent, just a simple mass of unintelligible syllables strung together with nothing but trepidation and agony holding them in the air. Sayu was turned backwards and the knife drew a steady line up the middle of her chest, silver painted with matted blood, scalding and cold all at once, she screamed. Terror, poignant, curdling terror ricocheted around the room, seconds later accompanied by the biting laughter of an unhinged, middle aged woman._

"_Oh sweetie," the woman stroked Sayu's cheek, releasing her hair, watching the girl's head swing forward in a mess of panting delusions and rivers dripping from her eyes. "I can end that for you, just look at the screen and I can give you what you seem to so desperately want. And you won't have to starve to get it."_

_Wide eyed smiles assaulted Sayu's blankly terrified gaze as she obeyed the woman's voice, trembling, blood running through her veins in a painfully swirling motion of harsh anxiety. It was like the liquid wanted to escape her body. Sharp, pointed, the dagger lazily ran across her throat and Sayu's lungs stopped working, her heart stopped beating, breath no longer came._

_The woman purred. "Just watch the show and you won't feel anything more."_

_It was a flash of silver just beneath her field of vision and the television roared. "LOVE, COURAGE, AND HOPE!"_

_The knife clattered to the floor, sliding through the puddles of blood with a sickening 'smack.' The body clutching Sayu shuddered, a chocking gasp struggling to claw its way from the woman's throat before hands, suddenly colder than ice, fell away, releasing Sayu. She hit the floor heavily, blinking back the confusion and alarm. Something was wrong, everything suddenly felt so much worse, which was saying a hell of a lot considering she'd been about to have her throat slit opened. But things were wrong, out of place, dark. _

_She crawled to her knees, turning, preparing to fend off a deeply outraged woman, and her insides turned to granite. Dead. The woman. Dead. Three words, those three words ran through her mind with all the consistency of sludge in a dying bird's intestines. And then she was gaping, gasping, sobbing violently, laying on the soiled floor in her own, rancid body fluid. _

_A hand fell to her head and she latched onto it, clutching the smooth skin, crying into it like a napkin that smelled of blackberries and cigarette smoke. The scent, whoever it was, she needed it, needed something. Helplessly, not willing to believe in reality anymore, wishing more than ever for an end to the nightmare, she clutched at the offered hand, burying her head into the leg of whoever the hell she was crying over. Brokenly, a thank you sobbing from her lips for reasons she didn't even comprehend, she glanced up into the cool, blue eyes of a boy with a black notebook in hand. _

_And the television blared. "PRINCESS HOLY UP!"_

3B

Light kicked a stray pebble across the green-lit hallway, mentally cursing L as he stalked towards the exit. This was stupid, this was unreasonable, this was only going to end in pure disaster. But, as always, L didn't quite see things that way. So he'd gone and concocted the most ridiculous plan Light had ever heard of. If there was one thing to be said about the Greatest Detective in the World, he had balls of fucking steel. There was no other way L could prepare himself, mentally and physically, for what he was about to do.

And yet, what irked Light the most was that L had not _asked_ if Light was okay playing the role he was about to play. The detective had merely assumed that, because Light had barged into the carpeting store and saved Matt's ass, that Light would be perfectly okay with once more covering Matt's darling, pink haired ass.

But, at the very least, he'd be there with L, covering his ass as well. Light thanked the world for small favors, even though he knew there was a very small chance L was coming out of this in one piece. That was just the kind of monster Beyond was. And, of course, there was a newfound paranoia regarding L's well being that Light was contending with. Factoring that into the equation made objective thought… _difficult._

Another stone kicked its way down the hall and Light watched it clatter away into the darkness. Checking his watch he sighed and took a turn down a corridor bathed in an unsightly red glow. B had to be watching. B had to know. It was foolish to think otherwise, so Light didn't even know why they were trying. There was no guarantee Beyond didn't know. Of course, as L had stated earlier, there was no guarantee that B _did_ know. And they'd been pretty good about the hiding, Light had some fairly nice bruises along his arms and chest to prove that. Ammo wasn't exactly a lightweight object when it came in crates large enough to fit a small giraffe. And getting it into the tank… that had been interesting.

The exit sign loomed in the darkness, letters contrasting deeply with the red flood lights, and Light pushed his way through the double doors into the Laser Tag arena's front lobby, which really looked no different than the rest of the play pen, all fake rusted walls, caution tape lining the corners, with a dull, institutional yellow glow bouncing through the air like a wraith moving just below the speed of light. Without even pausing to glance at the rows of firearms he'd set over the ammunition counter he pushed through the doors and onto the cloud covered street.

Fuck this was an obvious plan.

B _had_ to know they were there…

He glanced at the watch falling down his wrist and heaved another sigh. Pulling his phone from his pocket he dialed Watari and through up a prayer. Light wasn't one to ask a higher power for assistance, but today, he figured, was a good day to start.

3B

Watari pushed Matt through the hotel parking garage, which seemed to sparkle almost as much as the hotel lobby. Bell boys and valet service stood against the brilliantly painted walls but Matt noticed none of them. He was too busy focusing on the two screens unfolded before him, poking at the moving, digital characters with a silver stylus, trusting Watari not the steer him into a wall as Near had done only minutes previous.

Matt wasn't going to be talking to the albino anytime soon, and the glare arched against his eyebrows was proof enough of that face.

Coming to the obnoxious car that Matt was ashamed to say matched his hair, Watari opened the pink van door for the boy and followed him inside. "You know… Near does have a point."

Matt sprawled over one of the white leather car seats, kicking his boots up onto the small table bolted to the center of the van. "Yes, but he could have made that point without shoving me into the door jam. But whatever. He hijacked my laptop and won't give it back. I take it L gave him an assignment?"

"If he did I didn't hear about it."

"And you're supposed to be our guardian," Matt grimaced at the screen. "Where is L anyway, I haven't seen him or Light since yesterday afternoon." That little factoid brought some rather disturbing images to Matt's mind, but he pushed them out as the sounds of a screaming Witch demanded fifty five percent of his brain's attention.

"He and Light have been at the Bunker," Watari answered from the front seat, switching the van into gear and backing out of the parking garage.

Pulling onto the street, the Pink van attracted a series of stares from the hotel staff, as well as random pedestrians, but soon blended into London's mid morning traffic. Matt pulled down the van's window drapes, blocking the people and noise from view with a noncommittal huff. "More surveillance? Isn't that what _we're_ doing today?"

"No, they were making preparations."

The game shut off. "Brief me now Alfred."

Watari's head twitched upwards to view Matt from the review mirror. "Alfred?"

"Yeah, you know, because you're the Alfred to L's Batman," Matt shrugged sheepishly. "Now tell me what's going down today. L said nothing about a plan or anything, so I'm assuming this was a fairly recent development."

Wrinkled hands tensed on the steering wheel, but from the back of the van Matt saw nothing but Watari's kindly expression. "My hope is that nothing "goes down" today, but L's been preparing for a rather different scenario. You'll find, upon arrival that the arena is no longer suited for the weaponry provided."

Matt's brow furrowed until he realized exactly what was being implied. "The fuck is L thinking!" the teen exclaimed, pulling his goggles down over his eyes. "Yeah surveillance sucks but he's seriously just going to spring on me that fact that I get to fire a gun at Beyond fucking Birthday _now_?."

"Surveillance only "sucks" because you lack discipline," an emotionless voice echoed through the car speaker.

"Says the kid who whined about field work all of yesterday," Matt shot back at the air, scoffing over Near's proclamation. "Either way, I _do_ get a gun this time right?"

"Yes, you get a gun." Watari still held the boy in his vision through the review mirror, concern being rapidly written into the wrinkles along his forehead.

A frown turned the pink haired teenager's lips downward, the memory of trepidation and B's crawling form had not yet reached its expiration date in Matt's mind. "Damnit," Matt hissed, punching the side of his fist into the seat. "I'm not prepared, or ready, and L is a bastard. When was this decided?"

"Yesterday evening, after I dropped Near and Mr. Yagami off at the hotel," Watari said, the worried edge in his voice still present. "You can do this Matt."

Green irises made contact with Watari's own eyes in the mirror, surprise flecked throughout. "What?"

Watari sighed, focusing his gaze back on the road though his mind was still very much centered on the child he was transporting. And that really was just it. He was driving a child, precious cargo. But a child with a mind of brilliance, who could strategize and problem solve. The elder inventor couldn't help but think that what he and L were about to inflict upon the boy was very much a necessity in terms of Matt's mental development. Yet, there was always that small portion of him that wondered… "You can do this Matt. I have faith in you, and so does L."

Gaping, Matt let his eyes fall to the floor of the van, checkered black and white like an old diner, and traced the geometric pattern carefully. He never spoke up, never made any inclination, the hotel walls were sound proof, so nobody heard in the middle of the night when sleep actually claimed his mind. Dreams were meant to keep the human mind from insanity, occupy it, assist it in processing information. But there was a fine line between the dreams that helped and those that ravaged. Matt had taken a flying leap over that line days ago.

Fingers racking over his leg…

Cool laughter burned at his ear drums…

The tip of a knife at a toddler's foot…

Blonde…yellow.

But L had a plan, something to maybe, finally, draw this all to a close. Sear the edges of the frayed ribbon so they no longer looked like such a mess.

Funny how that thought was no longer as comforting as it had once been, as it had been an hour ago when there in fact had been no plan.

His eyes squeezed shut and Matt held in the shiver. It was more than slightly pathetic. He wasn't in any state of danger at night, under the covers, clinging to a pink PSP. He'd never tell. It was a secret, a shame that could not, under any circumstances, be voiced. Like cutting, driving a butcher knife down the river in a bathtub. Like throwing up the contents of one's stomach into the porcelain throne because eating was forbidden. He felt nothing but disgrace in face of his own, shoddy, mental fortitude.

As a child of Wammy's, the inability to deal was unforgivable. So Matt repressed the shiver, shut the images into a box, and prepared himself to face his nightmare on the planes of reality.

Eight minutes later Near decided that Matt's pensive wallowing was unproductive. "Your unease suggests that you are no longer confident in L's abilities."

"And you are?"

"I'll admit, I was worried earlier given his attachment to Yagami. But he has since assuaged my fears."

A pink, bedazzled PSP (he was never letting Linda near his electronics again) came out of his pocket, while he threw the 3DS onto the small table in front of him. "And how did L do that?" Rapidly he pulled up some Korean game that he no longer remembered the name of but was more kickass than guitar hero, mainly because the music was more techno than old school rock.

"I am not at liberty to say."

Matt missed a beat and glanced up with an internal growl, trying to find a speaker that he could punch or destroy and thus make Near's bodiless voice disappear.

"Now Near," Watari cut in from the front. "It is impolite to inform people of something when you know you cannot give them all the details."

"Ah, my apologies Matt. But as we are both candidates to be L's heir, I believe you'll understand why I cannot divulge information to you." The voice was automatic, robotic, and it had Matt picturing cylons with only a laser, running back and forth across their face, for an eye. Eerie as fuck image.

He didn't think Near understood exactly how his statement could be taken, and had he been anyone else, namely Mello, the van would have been pulled over and Near would end up with his face smothered into the carpet, purple bruising contrasting against his paler than normal skin. But the kid was more socially awkward than a beaded, animal keychain, so Matt took it with a grain of salt and reminded himself that Watari was in the van with him. Any violent or crude behavior would be met with punishment, and so Matt stayed in line.

"Yeah Near, I get it," he spoke to the van, eyes on the harsh blinking in front of him. "Worry not little lamb."

3B

Light leaned against the trunk of the car he'd rented for L casually. He'd been all for something silver and low key, a vehicle that blended into the pavement. L, however, had opted for something slightly more… ostentatious. The GranTurismo Range had turned heads across London, and Light swore he'd seen drivers go past them twice, just to see the car one more time. Even more unfortunate, comfort did not come standard with the carbon fiber sports car, the thing was built for speed, not a drive down gravel and pothole infested side streets. On the other hand, the trunk fit a surprisingly large arsenal, and for that Light was thankful.

Arms crossed, brow irately scrunched up, the twitch could not be suppressed when Light finally saw a pink truck rise over the horizon line. For a detective who lived in the shadows, his cars certainly cried for attention. Through the windshield he could see Watari's eyebrow raise questioningly at what Light was leaning against, but the profiler just shook his head, too exasperated to actually comment as Watari pulled in beside him and rolled down his window.

"Sometimes I just don't know what to do with that boy," the elder gentleman commented fondly.

At that moment Matt disembarked from the L-mobile and openly gaped, like a two year old who'd learned that not only would Christmas be celebrated in December and July, but also May and October. "Can I drive it?" the teen asked, looking as if he wanted to bow down before the car and worship its very existence.

"You have a permit?" Light drawled.

Matt actually pouted at that. "No. But considering what I'm about to walk into I think I deserve a joy ride."

"How about I just give you a .45?"

Grimacing, Matt took the offered firearm and tucked it into the back of his jeans. "So what are we doing? Alfred here didn't actually tell me what the plan was."

"Plan?" Light raised an eyebrow. "We go in, we shoot, we pray to God, Buddah, Allah, and the Candyman that L doesn't die."

"Uh huh…" Matt didn't even try to hide his skepticism. "And the reason no one is actually here?"

"They're not open in the middle of the week," Light said flippantly, because those business hours weren't strange at _all_.

"I take it you're not too thrilled about any of this?"

Running a hand through his already mussed up locks, Light scowled. "Watari will be on the roof of a nearby building, our main objective is to get B outside."

"And then what? Watari's going to blow his head off?"

"No." The inventor pulled a black case from within the van and popped it open, showing the contents to Matt. Eight vials, each with a yellow tinged liquid inside, were nestled into the case. "Tranquilizers. We want Beyond alive after all."

Because they still didn't know where Mello was. Fuck, they didn't even know if Mello was still alive. And fuck if he needed to stop thinking like that, the worst case scenario. Really, when had Matt's indifferent optimism gone out the window? Probably about the same time his nights of twelve hour coma bliss and secret cigarettes had gone. Actually, the cigs he'd lost when he'd been herded into a London hotel room with Near and placed under Watari's watchful gaze. That'd teach him to stop taking Roger for granted and cussing him out.

Pink hair ruffled in the breeze, the scent of rancid water coming up from the Thames and making a home in Matt's nostrils. "Simple enough, right?" He said with a smile.

Light tilted his head in agreement before turning away with a tight nod at Watari. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he tried his hardest not to hurry, he needed to stall, not rush, but keep himself from actually entering the arena. It was difficult, harder than it should have been, forcing the pace of his legs to move only slightly faster than a slug. Nor did it help that Matt seemed to be in a hurry, pink mop flashing past, almost jogging to the arena. Time seemed to work against him, and in what felt like only a matter of seconds he was back at the steel doors, pushing them open.

First thing Light noticed upon stepping inside, the firearms he laid over the ammunition counter were gone. Second thing he noticed was the door behind him clicking shut and the audible hiss of an automated lock sliding home.

There went the bait.

3B

"_All by myself… don't want to be, all by myself…"_

A very cross eyed glare fixed itself onto the phone Mello had been staring at for the past twenty four hours straight, ringtone raping his already dwindling sanity. He had half a mind to simple stomp on the phone, maybe make that a new hobby as there was nothing else in this goddamn hotel for him to do. So he'd stomp on his phone, and then he'd stomp on B's, that way no one would be able to call the stupid, motherfucker Darling. And well he was at it he'd rip that taunting game bored to shreds.

Problem solved.

"_Don't want to be all by myself anymoooooooorrrrrrreeeeeee…."_

Mello's eyebrow twitched and he picked up the phone. "You know I had this thing on vibrate."

"I reprogrammed it." The voice was soft, fuzzy, unclear reception or done purposefully, Mello hadn't a clue. But it made listening to Beyond's Darling difficult.

Tensely, he pressed the phone closer to his ear. "How the fuck did-"

"I hacked the carrier and made some changes to the phone settings from there. You're a genius, you should have guessed."

"I don't guess, I deduce."

"Ah, I see. A nonconformist then."

Mello blinked, twice. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Laughter came through the phone, making the speaker pop and crackle like rice cereal. "Children who use coarse language I find are largely unimaginative."

The tension in Mello's spine tightened, more than lamb intestines on polished, hollow wood. Had he more strength in his left hand the phone would have snapped in half. Suddenly, he was pissed, and something about the white hot anger just made him feel a hell of a lot better. It was almost as divine a feeling as the high he received from the chocolate bean. "I'll have you know I possess a perfect imagination, and at the moment it's toying with images of you, a machete, and a garrote."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before, "I see you've been spending a lot of time with B… his influence is unmistakable."

"Shut up." There was no influence. The influence was absent; it had taken a vacation, booked a trip to Medellin where it had been viciously murdered by Colombian drug lords because Mello had snapped his fingers and ordered it to happen. There was no influence.

"You don't like being compared to him?" Darling asked, amusement Mello really didn't appreciate flecked throughout his soft voice. "Believe me, it is a compliment of the highest caliber."

"Bastard had me shoot the balls off a child snatcher," Mello deadpanned.

"That, I think was more for the benefit of his… infatuation… than you. Though I did read about it in the paper and I'll admit, I was highly amused."

"You're both _sick_."

"You liked it," Darling snapped back, almost as if he'd been waiting to say the words. "But we digress. It's Beyond's job to play therapist. If we start talking about this I'll have to charge you four hundred American big ones… per hour."

Comical, darkly comical, Mello thought, that he was angrier than he'd ever been before, the time Matt fed his chocolate to a crying two year old notwithstanding. Yet, the conversation was civilized, his cool was being kept and he had no idea why. Already the gears in his mind had been turning, oiled to move at a steady beat of production. He was mad, teeth grit, but he was level, and that cold feeling of control, of being in control of _himself_, he rather liked it. If only he could extend it beyond his own flesh and through the cell phone in his hand.

"I thought I was supposed to call you," Mello stated dryly, shifting the subject.

The blonde practically heard the shrug over the line. "You we're taking too long."

"I called yesterday and you didn't pick up!"

There was a pause, an uncertain pause, which buzzed over the line. "…he actually left yesterday?"

Darling sounded unsure, and not wanting to give way to his own uncertainty Mello responded nonchalantly. "Yeah, he was gone for hours, came back sometime this morning, played with is game bored, and then left." The teen paused to pick at his half eaten chocolate bar, staring at the cardboard box filled with several over slabs of sweet cocoa. "He also brought me chocolate. Why, have you lost him?"

"Beyond has one job right now, and getting it done is all that I really care about." The reply was clipped with exasperation and a small amount of aggression. Mello ate it up.

"Whatever he's doing, I take it he's not doing it as well as you'd like."

Laughter. Cold, vicious, laughter. The sound cut with the intensity of a wire whip. "No no. What he's doing, he does it a little_ too_ well. But I don't think you're ready to know about that yet Mello."

And there it was, the opening just big enough for one innocent kid to step through. "What if I wanted to help?"

"Dirty little liar I would call you." Darling laughed again and Mello heard the voice growing just past the realm of a whisper. Did that mean he was doing something right? Or was he just royally screwing this conversation up?

"None of us are doing this because we want to help."

"Then why are you doing this?" The blonde flipped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, corner of the bar stabbing against his tongue. "Kidnapping me, killing random people?"

"That's just Beyond, not me." The distinction left no room for argument, though Mello already had his opinions on that matter. "It's his way of achieving an end," Darling admitted.

Mello went for the obvious answer, the one that scratched the surface. "L?"

Silence, and normally Mello would count that as an admission of guilt, but in this context, he wasn't too sure. "Is L usually the goal?" Darling asked, a smile in his voice.

"I think he's a product of your goal."

There was another pause, this one pregnant with soberness and something duller than a butter knife. "Hm, Beyond's done well with you…" The declaration seemed almost regretful.

In Mello's professional opinion, Darling was a darling little fool.

Then came a question Mello hadn't expected, not from the orchestrator, the person holding Beyond blood crusted leash. "Would you really want to help me Mello?"

"You haven't told me what you want to do." He shot it out harshly, acidic sarcasm off the tip of his tongue.

Darling responded in kind. "But you _know _what I want to do."

He did. It was obvious in the way a horde of zebras stood out in the midst of a burning savannah, the illusion of something obscuring the real truth. Mello knew what Darling wanted to do, despite having no clue who actually existed behind the term of endearment, a perverse play on affection. He could hear it in the speech pattern, the self confident, self loathing lilt. Mello knew that voice. Near knew that voice. Matt knew that voice. It spoke of an orphanage, of genius climbing towards the top, hating what you had to do to get there, the pressure and the grief, but craving that moment in the spotlight more. Because winning outweighed everything else. The voice was pure Wammy. Every child who'd passed out on one of the orphanages mattresses, exhausted from endless studying, crying themselves to sleep because they knew they wouldn't be good enough for tomorrow, every Wammy kid spoke like that. Behind closed doors. That was there language.

So yeah. Mello knew what Darling wanted, it was what they all secretly wished for, and it sure as fuck had nothing to do with the twelfth letter of the alphabet. Chances were L wanted it too. They all wanted to see the demise of what had created them.

"Something like that," Mello spoke honestly, gravely, tongue sharper than the point of needle, "You'll die trying."

And Darling laughed again, at the one thing Mello still didn't understand. "I'll dye achieving Little Dear, because that's what it's going to take."

3B

"What are you doing?" Giovanni looked over Naomi's shoulder, watching her play with the image on the computer screen. Clutching the empty Styrofoam cup in his hands he blinked back the urge to pass out into oblivion on his boss's desk and squinted into the light of the monitor. "That can't be legal…"

Naomi scoffed, bringing her own cup to her lips only to find it equally as empty as Giovanni's. With a stern sigh she set the useless thing down. "I called in a favor. The images came from London's U.S. embassy. At most what we're doing is a little shady, but how is that any different from when we started working this case?"

"This isn't a case, this is you stalking Sayu Yagami from the other side of the world and using government resources to do so." How sad was it that he didn't even have the energy to deadpan that response. It was four in the morning, the office was a mass of shadowed blackness mixed with emergency lights and the city would wake in about an hour. Yet he had not slept. Knowing Naomi wasn't going home, not until she got her answers, until every piece of paper headed with the Yagami name had been read through, he wouldn't leave until she did.

Seven hours after making that decision, it finally looked like Misora was getting somewhere.

"I'm investigating her fiancé actually," the dark haired woman said, furiously clicking through street photo after street photo. It was amazing how many traffic shots were taken in a day, and all from a single vantage point.

Giovanni stared harder at the screen, trying to discern people from motion blur, but his exhausted mind was making the task difficult. "Why?"

"A hunch."

His yawn was lost in the glare he threw at her. "Naomi."

The woman sighed, turning away from the images she'd had emailed to her to face her subordinate and friend. "You wouldn't understand. You're a man."

"I'm also out of coffee."

She laughed, no amount of fatigue present in her demeanor, and Giovanni found himself, once more, admiring his superior.

"Think about it," she said. "A girl, kidnapped, who somehow, over the course of her kidnapping, meets this boy under the alias Attach. She was kidnapped by the same criminal organization the family had ties to after all. Not that big of a stretch. And then, once she's home she repeatedly runs away?"

He blinked at her. "Are you telling me this is all some overdramatic, Romeo and Juliet drama?"

"Perhaps… But I've other theories too." Theories, she thought, all revolving around Light. Gut instinct had driven her original mind set, as well as her desire to not loose Light as a member of her team. She'd never tell him, but as soon as he'd joined, her success rate in apprehending criminals had gone up, way up. That had been the original intention behind prodding, to keep Light Yagami with her, make the kid stay and build a career out of justice. Unfortunately, the unsanctioned "case" had become quite a bit more than that and she didn't exactly know where to go from here. It was one thing to investigate, it was another thing entirely to find an answer one didn't want to hear.

Naomi knew about Light and the lengths he would go to accomplish an end. It was those lengths, the ones he'd taken as a mere teenager, which would make him a target to both sides of the law. Information was a tricky business, but Light Yagami had flourished in it, just as "Attach" apparently had.

"You're not going to share are you?"

"No." Her long, black pony tail swished behind her head as she glanced up at Giovanni, musings interrupted.

"So," Gi began slowly, nodding his head forward in hopes that the motion would give him the jolt he needed to actually explain himself. "In the world of your very farfetched and ridiculous theory that would make Hollywood proud, is the girl working with this boy... Attach Junko, who so far has no first name?"

"Another possibility," was the straight answer. Which was true, it was a scenario she'd already written on her mental white board. Meanwhile, she couldn't help but consider the alternative possibility more, the possibility she didn't write down, physically or mentally. Light was protecting Sayu, quitting, not mentioning anything of what he was doing, all for the sake of his sister's happiness. Naomi had long maintained the belief that the only member of Light's family he loved was his little sister. Sure, he respected his parents, but there was too much resentment for the way they pushed him, expected him to mold to their wants, for the love to be untainted. If protecting Sayu was his motive, and Attach was tied into the familial knot, well it made for a rather nice looking package; minus the loose threads here and there.

Further, she cycled through the black and white images of London. Face recognition software had already zeroed in on Light, courtesy of the embassy. From there, she just wanted a picture of Light and someone, anyone, who seemed legitimately close to him. An individual who wasn't family or an identifiable friend, she needed to see him with someone new. Really, she'd take anyone, and if she could run a background on the face and come up with nothing, hallelujah.

She paused on one blurred image finally. Light, coming out of an Indian restaurant of all places, no doubt a torture his sister had devised. It's what Naomi always did to him after all. But accompanying him was another man, Asian, confident, and unmistakable carrying a gun. She saw it, just barely, peeking out from its holster as the breeze of traffic blew back his blazer.

"There we go…" Four clicks and the image was enlarged, a face, the computer's algorithm running over the key characteristics of the man's face. We proportioned eyes slanted into almonds, sharp nose, high cheek bones, and fair brown hair unusual among the Asian populace. The search was fruitless, and that was the sweetest apple the case had given to her thus far. Inside, deep down beneath the twist of her intestines and curve of her stomach, the metaphorical gut clenched, and she knew it was Attach.

Almost simultaneously, a number ran through the forefront of Naomi's mind, noted to only be used in extreme situations. She didn't know if this situation counted exactly as "extreme," Giovanni certainly didn't seem to think so if his sleeping slump was anything to judge by. But L was interested in Light, and Attach was related to Light _and_ one of the world's most notorious crime syndicates. When she stretched it like that, it all seemed fair enough.

Resolved, she picked up her cell and dialed for L.

3B

The lights were gone. Not switched off or burnt out, they were gone. Filaments crushed to leave sparkling shards of safety glass on the floor, facets glittering in the beam of Matt's flash light. It was their only source of illumination, an app on Matt's phone much handier than Angry Birds. Light hadn't expected Beyond to smash every flood light in the establishment, he didn't even think B would have enough time to shut everything off. Underestimating a serial killer, amateur move, B had always been one to disregard human possibility and the laws of physics.

"So…" Matt skirted around the sharp debris, keeping the glass from embedding itself into the soles of his boots. He was gripping the Glock tighter than necessary, a two minutes walk into the arena and already his palms were sweating, skin ignoring the air conditioning blowing a steady breeze through the vacant corridors. He was on edge, phone extended a full arms length in front of him so as to illuminate as far down the hall as possible. Sadly that wasn't much, two feet at the most. Comforted, Matt was not.

Light glanced at the boy who walked a few inches behind him, brow arched.

"We're just looking for him?" Matt whined, biting his lip at the gun in his hand.

Light rolled his eyes. Typical teenager. "Eventually, we will find him."

It was at that moment, Matt opening his mouth to make some snappy comment in response, that he tripped, falling to the ground as his foot tangled against something long and heavy obstructing his path. The cell phone skidded out across the hall, sliding over the smooth cement and into the darkness.

"The fuck!" Matt gripped, twisting around and feeling through the darkness. The .45 was still in his hand, and he nudged it against the long cylinder on the ground. Even in the darkness he could distinguish the shape of a shotgun.

Light reached over and picked the gun up. Silently he slid the action bar back to see a single round pop out of the gun and into his waiting had. But none did. It was empty. Quickly, he pressed the butt of the gun against his hip and emptied the magazine tube. There was only one bullet loaded.

Then a sound, the scraping of plastic on cement, came to them as Matt's cell phone slid out of the darkness, bouncing back against Light's feet. Both boys stopped, staring into the light of the phone for all of half a second before two guns were trained down the hall, unwavering and waiting for the first hint of movement. Matt's finger ached for the trigger, he wanted to feel the recoil, the sling of a bullet firing off, and he wanted that bullet to taste blood. His breathing was slowing to a rate of nonexistence while arm muscles protested the strength it took not to shake while holding the gun. This wouldn't be a horror story, the pink haired teen vowed. Games they may play but this wasn't a trap and Matt wasn't letting B get away, let him go back anywhere near Mello, even if he had no fucking clue where his irrational, angry, other half was. Matt licked his lips, and then the darkness parted.

At least he wasn't crawling this time. That was the only thing running through Matt's brain as the white shirt and ripped jeans materialized on the other side of the hallway, uniform of a homeless psychopath. At least, that was the image Beyond portrayed. There was no laughter this time either, in fact, Beyond made no sound at all as he walked forward, closing the distance between Light, Matt, and himself. He was expressionless, eyes a vacancy of dull red, no light left but the illumination of the cell phone still on the ground to reflect off of them. He walked like a normal man, an emotionless man. There was nothing in the stature of B, no tell to give him away, he was outwardly empty. Disobeying the wisdom of the firearm, Matt's finger wrapped around the trigger before he was prepared to shoot.

B stopped, still yards away from them, but he stopped in the white glow of the cell phone and blinked at them. "I was going to be civil, but you decided to bait me." His words came softly, clear and more articulate than anyone had ever heard him be. "We were supposed to play laser tag, maybe some air soft, kind of like we did at Wammy's once upon those tragic times. But no, you mock me with your real weapons and ammunition, putting it out there for me to see, to notice. You mock me by parading around in that pink truck without actually coming in here and looking for me. I've been here all week! You're not taking me seriously." He paused, the dark monotone of his voice not even ringing down the corridor as a natural voice would. "I am offended." The voice was stagnant.

Light didn't respond and neither did Matt. Both were frozen in equal states of shock because this was not the Beyond Birthday either of them had been expecting to find. This _thing_ before them, the imitation of L, was off, so very off it failed to even register in their minds. Logic dictated that bullets should have already been slicing through the air and puncturing the white cotton of B's overly large sweater. But logic was failing, as was any sense of reality they had possessed, because Beyond Birthday was never calm, never emotionless, and never did he stand straight.

"Where is Mr. Twelve?"

The air was sucked from the room with the question, that or Light had stopped breathing. Eyes narrowed, he stared Beyond down. There was no way he knew. No _way_.

Matt was the one who answered. "L isn't here."

Red eyes rolled to the ceiling, B's blank visage wrinkling in a disturbing expression of casual thought. "Pity, everyone else here is blithely unimportant. Sweetie Jam, Mattie-Ma, and even Mello, the Little Dear. Un. Im. Por. Tant."

That was all it took for Matt to lose it. Out of character or not, B wasn't fucking allowed to speak of Mello unless he was giving them the boy's location.

Light rushed to stop him, but already he was squeezing on the trigger, absorbing the force of the gun slamming back against his arm. "YOU!" BANG! "FUCKING!" BANG! "ASS!" BANG! "WHERE THE HELL IS MELLO?" BANG BANG!

Look at that, Matt noted, the lack of blonde in his life had him acting like one… But there wasn't enough time for him to contemplate his recent lack of temper. Light slammed him up against the wall and out of the way of what sounded and looked like a missile, thundering right through the negative space Matt's head had previously occupied. The wall shook as the bazooka crushed through the floor with a deafening rumble and Matt found himself further pressed against the wall, Light flesh behind him, held up by the force of the explosion.

Dust powdered the air, enhancing the darkness, the cell phone light now absent, destroyed in the rubble of the bazooka.

Light coughed roughly, stepping back to release Matt from the wall. "Liberating isn't it?"

Matt stared at him, at a loss for how calm the older man seemed when they'd just had a missile launched at their heads and the psycho responsible disappearing into the blackness, before he actually considered the way he was feeling about having shot at an actual human being. "You know… it is a bit."

"It would be," Beyond snapped, his voice now disembodied in the darkness. "Is Mattie-Ma's gun empty now? Or does he still have more bullets, because I know I have more." And B started running; they could hear his footsteps, heavy combat boots thundering down the hall. Without a second thought Matt was tearing after him, Light following close behind.

A flash of white came four feet before Matt and he fired, right over head, following Beyond's inhuman leap upwards. Abruptly, before he could even see what the hell B was jumping onto, Matt was being pulled to the ground, cheek smacking against the floor as Light yanked roughly on the back of Matt's shirt, depriving the teen's lungs of air for three seconds. The grenade cleared the air and hit against the wall, which failed to explode, but still the shockwave pushed at the air around them.

"The hell are those things coming from?" Matt's shout came beneath his arms, covering his head to protect the spinal column from Beyond's playfield perversion.

"The walls." Light was already on his feet, the movement of Beyond, blending into the shadows like a crippled insect, pulling his legs foreword. The explosions had made it almost impossible for his eyes to adjust, refit themselves in accordance with the dimness. His over stimulated mind could only register the deceivingly empty air before him and trust it not to sever his head from his shoulders.

"You mean he - "

"Are you seriously surprised?" Light panted at the teen, hot behind him, the barrel of Matt's hand gun trained in the air. "Now don't shoot in the fucking dark! It's useless! Just follow him! He has a hostage here somewhere."

"Oh Sweetie Jam is so very smart." The voice came from above, harsh and metallic. The vents. "All those toys you left out, the ones you insult me with, I made better ones." A ringing clash of metal called to Matt and Light from further down the hall, a gun falling from the ceiling. "Take a chance each time you fire you unimportant things!" And there was scuttling, like pincers sliding against metal, scratching for purchase and moving quickly. Light was up and running after the noise, grabbing the dropped weapon as he did and throwing it into Matt's arms.

Matt juggled the firearms, struggling to keep them suspended in his arms while running, finger still poised against the trigger of the .45. They were so fucking screwed. Shoot and have their heads blown off or follow B down the creepy hallway so he could strip the flesh from their bones with his over grown fingernails. Great set of options right there. Though if it came down to it, Matt had no problem returning the favor sevenfold. But even that was a fucked up situation. Murderous blood on his hands, it was fucked that he wanted to feel that.

There was no fear in Matt's body anymore, it'd been replaced, thrown out in a heavy duty, black garbage bag, limbs from a distant nightmare protruding at odd angles, pulling at the plastic. For once, he was the one chasing his tormentor, and even if B wasn't running from them in fear, there was something about having a gun and being on the hunt that made fear so very inconsequential. Useless.

He'd take B's head off and mount his shit filled skull to the wall of Wammy's House.

The bang of a gun, Light puncturing the vents with two bullets, was Matt's only warning to leap to the ground, roll into the corner and narrowly avoid the grenade that rolled out of god only knew where. It halted before Matt's face, apparently he hadn't rolled far enough, and he just had time to make out the pink, smiley face painted on the bulb before brown leather shoes kicked it down the hall like a football. The thing was air born, and went off while still in the air, a brilliant flash of flame and smoke more blinding than the darkness had actually been. But neither Matt nor Light stopped, both were back to running, stalking.

Finally the laughter started. A howling cry, echoing in a deep throated gurgle of psychotic joy, and it moved over them like an unseen ghost. Startling, how that laughter turned the room, brought down the temperature and pierced straight to the darkest part of Light's soul. He shuddered, skidding around the corner, whisky tinted eyes following the barely distinct lines of the ventilation shaft ascetically. The profiler had to admit, reveal the facts to himself, that being around Beyond once more was a high of stringent curiosity. He wanted to see and to know.

Light didn't play B's game because L wanted him to. He played because it brought him closer to the answers he hadn't had time to gain before. Putting Beyond at ease, picking up your assigned character piece and slamming it onto the board, only to that would Beyond open up.

Quite suddenly, the laughter, which had gone onward, without end and hitch, ceased. Warm silence was left to pollute the air until, with one final whip around a corner, light, a brilliant white, filtered down the hall from beneath a crack. A centimeter, Light's mind calculated instantly, between the floor and the double door that stood at the end of the open hallway. He and Matt reached the steel doorway in seconds, each ramming a shoulder against it harder than they needed to. They fell across the threshold, stumbling into the whiteness of a spotlight.

Everything else was bathed in the unearthly glow of green flood lights, the occasional orange search beam casting over the layout of Beyond's hellish playground. Wire, crates spilling open, blocks of concrete over six feet tall, and at the very end of it all, centered over an army green tank, sat Beyond himself. He straddled the cannon of the war machine, lips tilted upwards in a smirk that was barely even there. Hands casually splayed over the cannon, he rocked back and forth slowly, like a child on a see-saw. Only B was nothing like a child, nothing like an innocent, and the body swinging through the air above his head only served to prove those facts.

She was drenched in the sweat of terror, hair a mess of wetted tangles resembling ill-formed dreadlocks. Had they been able to see her face, Light imagined makeup, befitting the sleek, satin purple dress and expensive, black heels the woman wore, would be dragging itself down her tear stained cheeks. But her head was lolled forward, hanging over chest while her arms were stretched above, tied over several times with rope and then hooked via carabineer to a cable cord. The steady breathing of the woman's chest was the only thing which quelled the rapid hammering of Light's heart, but just barely.

It was clear, standing there on the balcony leading into the main arena, what had taken place before was only foreplay. This, this was where the real shit was about to explode, and it'd do so literally if B had his way.

"Welcome to the arena you unimportant liars." Beyond's voice radiated from the speakers hanging from the high ceiling of the field. "This match is simple. If you can kill me you can have her," he gestured calmly to the captive above his head. "And then you can have your precious little blonde back. She knows where Little Dear is, after all. So, come on boys, this is her holiday, she's visiting from Slovakia! Let's show her a good time!"

A muffled whimper licked the lips of the girl, and her body began to sway more. Conscious, she was conscious.

A .45 caliber bullet zinged past Light's shoulder, Matt firing off, the dull, feminine voice searing through the blatant shock that had bubbled around him and bringing an animalistic growl from the teenager's throat. The bullet exploded against the wall as B spun over the barrel of the tank, hanging himself upside down like a skeletal sloth. Something dropped from the ceiling seconds after the bullet hit the wall behind Beyond, bouncing on the platform right at Light and Matt's feet. One look at the purple smiley face and complete lack of pin and both investigators were diving over the railing, an explosion of flame and boiling air slamming into the backs, singeing clothing and flesh.

Stop. Drop. Roll. The childhood safety lesson had Matt tumbling across the ground and hitting his head against a barrel labeled "TOXIC." Glancing to his right he saw Light dart behind a maze of towering blocks. Gulping back the adrenaline, he clutched the rifle to his chest, leaving the now emptied .45 on the ground. The other rifle B had dropped down to them was slung over his back. With a breath, ignoring the stinging pain of his burnt flesh, Matt peered over the top of the tin barrel, craning his neck in order to remain low and hopefully out of sight. Yet, there was nothing to remain out of sight of.

Beyond had disappeared.

Crouching low, Matt walked forward, the bright spot light which had illuminated the entrance now moving slowly across the field to fix itself upon the girl. Heart hammering, he made his way towards her. It was the point of the game, to get to the girl… and slay Beyond Birthday.

Right.

Green eyes narrowed, he just walked out into the open, gun drawn, a long and thin shield he might even use as a club to bash in B's skull. Which is exactly what he did when the man came ramming into his side from behind. Skidding over the floor, a tangle of limbs, Matt twisted the gun, jamming the head of the barrel into Beyond's stomach as if to spear him on a rod. Grunting, grinning, hands stretched downwards, wrapping around the teenager's neck. And Matt stared wide eyed into eyes more explosive than the grenades poised to fall above their heads. Thumbs squeezed down over his throat and suddenly the gun separating him from the murderer fell to the side, an involuntary action as Matt grappled against the thin hands cutting into his throat, déjà vu of the nightmarish brand.

Three clicks and a very creative sting of profanity echoed towards them as Matt's blurring vision caught sight of Light hitting the side of B's skull with a bare knuckle. The serial killer released his grip on Matt in favor catching Light in a similar position. Light's gun kept clicking as he ran backwards, leaping and swerving away from Beyond's galloping frame.

Click. Empty.

Click. Empty.

Click. Empty.

Matt ran after them, but his eye's weren't on their two weaving and darting forms. He watched the girl sway through the air, blonde, thin, tall, European. A hanging woman, teetering between life and oblivion, the symbolism was not lost on Matt.

Click. Empty.

Finally, an echoing bang rang out, followed by the explosion of a grenade, yanking the pink haired boy's focus from the girl and how to get her down, and back onto Light, who was suddenly standing by himself, gazing around, mouth drawn in a tight line, questioning why Beyond was so goddamn fast.

"Where'd he go?" Matt gasped, pressing his back to Light's. It was the smartest move, both already having been blindsided by B and his affinity for blending into shadow and popping out whenever and wherever the fuck he wanted.

"No clue, I wasn't expecting the gun to go off," Light griped, chest heaving rapidly, pressing firmly against Matt.

A banging clang pulled on their sides, turning them around to face a small, tin shack just off to the left of the tank B's hostage hung above. A spray of bullets, tiny and sharp hit a foot before their feet and had the two leaping back for cover. Bombs dropped all around, at least eight of them exploding across the arena in volatile bursts of smoking flames. Light grit his teeth, hunching his body against the barrier he'd hidden behind. Rubble and dust showered over his body, coating his clothes and skin in layers of ghostly grime. Eyes sharp, defined, he steadied his breathing, slowing the heart rate and trying not to choke on the dirtied air surrounding him.

"You know," B purred, leaning the butt of the machine gun on the roof of the shack he now stood atop while resting his chin on the end of the barrel. "I worked here as a technician. I'm sure Mr. Twelve went and stalked all the employees, and no, he wouldn't have seen me here, but I've been putting in the hours, getting Alli's paycheck. Yet, no one noticed me. I really don't appreciate that." He said it with a pout, cheeks flaring into a childish puff of displeasure. The expression wasn't endearing in the slightest, and Light reached around the corner between them and aimed for B's head.

"Is that why you're demanding attention now?" Light spat from behind the block of cement providing him cover.

"You're the psychologist Sweetie," Beyond purred, leaning forward over the gun, eyes not even looking at Light. "You tell me…" Without batting an eyelash the gun was flipped up into B's arms. Bullets sprayed over the field, forcing Light to dive back behind his shield of processed rock.

A bazooka launched somewhere to Light's left, and he pressed closer to the ground, waiting for any sign of a grenade dropping over his head, keeping still until the explosions, the utter chaos, settled into a low rumble.

"Oh please," Matt's voice spat out through the haze of dust and flood lights. "Cut the crap B. You play a shit victim."

A single shot rang out, from where, Light had no idea. But he used it and the explosion, the heady crash of shattering rock and metal raining down in hot shards, he used it and ran for the shack. His feet pounded in rhythm to the pounding of his brain, and he prayed to god that was only a mild concussion and not the thoughts attacking his gray matter. Panic. Desperation. Exasperation. A healthy dose of respect for Beyond's mechanical engineering. Sound detonating grenades, truly and disturbingly brilliant… as long as one didn't drop on the tank.

Another shot exploded from Matt's gun, followed by a series of empty clicks and an explosion directly to Light's left.

"FUCK!" Matt screeched, pulling fruitlessly at the trigger in hope one more bullet would ring out of the magazine. Furiously, Matt settled for shouting at the murderer. "You could care less about being noticed by someone, especially when this is all your fantastic idea!"

A chilling cackle came from somewhere above the shack, and Light made a run towards it, just barely seeing Matt dart behind a wooden crate. "Playing into my hands then?" B taunted. "Is that what you and Mr. Twelve have been doing? Following my lead?"

"Well it's not as if you've given up much choice asshat!" And a string of bullets finally hit the air, blasting away at the grenades dangling from the ceiling like painted Christmas ornaments, and just as delicately they fell to the glorious sounds of Light's mental cursing. It was bad enough the things fell every time they took a shot, to have them all go down at once was simply unnecessary.

Scrambling over a crate, another gun he'd picked up along the way tucked into the small of his back, he reached the side of the four walled enclosure, slipping at the shuddering of multiple explosions erupting across the arena. Shards of metal speared into Light's skin from all directions, piercing and slicing into his clothing, drawing red-brown licks of blood over his body as the rock battered against his frame, knocking him sideways. A scream echoed from above, high pitched and turning Light's intestines rancid at the sheer terror of it. But he shut it out, climbing over another crate and reaching up to wrap his hand around the roof of the metal structure. The entire thing buckled under another blast, the final detonation judging by the sound, and he clung tightly to the roof of the building, trying not to be knocked back to the ground.

Nothing could be seen in front of Light aside from the glow of smoking dust dancing through the humid air. Aside the sudden lack of explosions came the huffing cries of the girl he knew to be hanging in the air somewhere above his own head, miraculously still alive despite the warzone Beyond had forced them to create. Her voice glided through the air like thick sludge, pulling at Light's mind, his need to answer her call, get her down and out of there. But he couldn't, she wasn't the main objective, no matter what Beyond had said.

He hung off the side of the building, pulling his legs up to propel himself onto the roof, when suddenly a hand wrapped around his neck and Light was hoisted into the air. He choked, air suddenly straining to reach the bronchi of his lungs, stretching to oxygenate his body, but the difficulty in breathing wasn't born of the grip Beyond had on his neck. Without thought, just the pain of forgetting to breathe, he reached for the gun jammed in his pants only to have another, very unwelcomed hand slip down the same direction.

Torrid and strangely minty breath huffed over his ear as B's hand slid off his neck only to have nails clawing into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees, back against the stiff, hard fabric protecting Beyond's chest. Bulletproof vest, how quaint. "Naughty, naughty place to keep a gun Sweetie." And the gun was ripped from his pants, scrapping harshly up his back as Beyond flipped it over in his hand and pressed it under Light's shirt, end aligning between his shoulder blades.

_Click_.

Light actually flinched at the sound, shuddering within Beyond's grasp as the sudden realization that his life could end pressed into his back right with the barrel of the gun. Dust settled around them and Light scanned over the arena, billowing clouds filtering through an air conditioner somewhere, running away and leaving him behind in the hands of a madman with a fucking gun pressing into his back.

He'd known from the start he'd be going to hell with this suicide mission. But it was quite different to actually have said hell breathing down his neck, softly, invitingly, so very hungrily. Because Light could feel the want in the way Beyond gripped him, like his fingers were pressing closed against a flow of water, trying to capture and contain the liquid in his own bare hand. As far as Light was concerned though, the gun made it pretty damn certain Light wouldn't be running anytime soon, even if it was completely empty. Russian Rulette just wasn't his kind of fun.

Nor was the rifle Matt had pointing directly at his chest, trembling and snarling, any type of party either.

"Let. Him. Go."

B's head tilted into the crook of Light's neck and a sinister smile pressed into his skin, making Light want to gag. "Come on Mattie-Ma," the killer whispered against Light's skin, not even loud enough for the teenager to hear a word he was saying. And yet, Beyond's actions were shouting rather loudly. "Shoot me. Hit me hun, fucking HIT ME!" That was when Light's neck snapped, backwards into B's hand, auburn strands of hair abused by the thinness of B's fingers and the way he twisted them, exposing neck and collar bone, making Light gasp in pain. B was standing, dragging Light up some with him, pulling his shirt up as the arm locking the gun to Light's back rose. "If you don't start firing, be it for my head or his, I will."

_Click_. Another empty round, six more to go.

It was visible, the falter in Matt's step, the widening of his eyes, and the tremors, the never ending tremors that had the rifle in Matt's arms vibrating violently, practically a blur. He didn't know what to fucking do. Shots didn't even come out of the stupid rifle regularly. B had them playing a game of lethal chance, and no doubt the twisted sicko found it all very amusing. Matt, however, didn't quite maintain the same opinion, and he was fairly certain Light would agree with him. But this, this was the deep end of the water, a swimming pool with a hidden vortex sucking him down past the bottom.

Sweat stained the metal of the gun, fluttered at Matt's eye lids as he blinked back the uncertainty, the inability to appropriately act. Did an appropriate course of action even exist?

_Click_. Four chances left.

Through pink bangs Matt saw Light shudder, eyes open as if B was keeping them from blinking. Yet, fear was absent. Matt didn't know how to define the disarming emotion staring back at him from across the field. But he knew what Light was seeing, and he knew it wouldn't be comforting. The gun rose a fraction of an inch, because that was all it took for Matt to aim at Beyond's head, and consequently Light's shoulder. But he couldn't take the shot.

Nor did he actually have to.

The tank let out a screech, painful to hear, causing everyone to flinch. The girl hanging above it screamed as the top hissed open, unscrewing and flipping upwards with the crunch of an unused hinge, and something crawled out. Slowly, gracefully, a figure pulled itself out of the tank to crouch casually atop the army, green machinery as if all was cheesecake and ice cream.

"Beyond," L said dryly, "I would very much appreciate it if you released my boyfriend _now." _

Silence overtook L's statement, mixing caustically with the surprise in Beyond's eyes, and then, the doppelganger lunged.

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A/N: If anyone has a GranTurismo Range and is open to letting me take a drive in it, please drop me a note. ;)

And, in answer to questions most of you have been messaging me with, yes I do make references to various T.V. shows, movies, books, etc. (the last chapter being a painful example of this as I was watching TDK while reading American Psycho XD). There's pretty much a reference in every chapter I've written, so I suppose you can think of that as a game of "Discover the Lame things Bag Likes."

Thanks for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: So this was supposed to be the last chapter, but events weren't meshing well together, and had I left it, the thing would have grown to over 30,000 words… Not cool. So I've divided it up. There _should_ be one more chapter after this one. But I reserve the right to change my mind.

And, as always, I apologize for the wait on this chapter, but sometimes real life is just more important than fic. …Damn.

As always, thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, faved, and alerted this story. You're a large part of the reason I've made it this far! (huggle)

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Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Lesley Gore, or From Hell, nor am I making any money off of this work.

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Chapter 20

This, L thought, leg muscles straining to keep him flying foreword, may not have been the brightest idea he'd ever had. Downright stupid, he suspected his current actions were. It wasn't the plan itself that he was labeling ridiculous. No, his plan was flawless, perfect, dangerous, but incredibly well thought out. What bothered him was that he was L. L. The Greatest Detective in the World. Laborious tasks like this were beneath him, and it wasn't arrogance at the helm of that statement, it was _fact_. He did not do field work. He did not do running _away_. Was he in shape, yes. His muscles were on fire with urgency, but his breathing remained level as he ran, even, in and out, not a hitch against his lungs. But he was L. There were supposed to be agents, proxies, shields who did this while he sat behind a computer screen eating cake and telling them to run faster.

The thoughts came irritably, alongside the satisfaction that Beyond had followed him, stayed on him, L, and away from Light, Matt, and the victim with that one clue. L knew he was the only person Beyond would have followed. He could have dangled Naomi Misora on a hook and the murderer would not have bitten, not even deigned to paw at the female agent. Necessary sacrifices, no one could ever say L didn't make them, but that didn't mean he was happy about putting his life on the line, and for Beyond Birthday of all individuals.

It was annoying.

Almost as annoying as the fact that B could keep up with him. He could hear the steady thump of Beyond's footfalls ringing out behind him. No, they didn't ring, in fact, they were dead silent. That was his own heartbeat he was hearing, the thunder of blood bashing against his ear drums, reminding him to stay ahead, stay alive. Get ahead. Get out. Get B shot. Simple.

Wasn't that a fucking lie.

Finger tips grazed the back of his neck, a brush of bitten out nails, and L dived foreword. His hands hit the ground, sliding across the dust and rubble, disallowing the traction of his palms as he propelled his foot back, catching B in the neck and sending him flying sideways. And further he slid, balance wavering, leaving his knees to crash against the floor. He could feel the contusions cracking against his knee caps, rocks cutting through denim as he scrambled up and took off at another run.

Beyond's own recovery took a minute longer. But it was enough for L. Rounding corners, he knew exactly where to go despite the blackness that blended into his eyes, and thanked his brain for its possession of a photographic memory. He gained distance, the adrenaline, and lack of injury where B had been inhaling dust and getting hit with rock, allowed for L to put more distance between himself and the serial killer.

He reached the exit and kicked, only to have his leg bend at the oddest, most uncomfortable angle it could manage before he fell against the floor. Locked. The door was locked. Why had he not accounted for that? Once more he rammed against it, only this time it was the cool metal of a Glock, which Watari hard forced him to bring, ramming against the double door. Calculating the one hundred and forty three seconds he would have to open the thing, he fired three quick shots into the steel. The metal hissed and groaned with a painful "pow" slicing through L's eardrums. The lock didn't unhinge, but the damage done was enough to weaken the bolt, and L rammed his foot against the seam of the door once more.

This time it flew open. The light shattered the darkness like a thousand bullets ripping through thick velvet drapery. It stung L's eyes, large orbs accustomed to the darkness, suddenly engulfed in the vivid grey of London cloud cover. He sprinted forth, rushing into the light with the irrational hope that B, being the psychotic ghoul he was, would stop at the threshold and go no further, shying from the light. Or maybe he'd just burst into flames the moment he moved out of the shadow of the arena. It'd be so much easier than running from the sound of hurried steps, heavy breathing, and sprinting behind him. He could practically feel Beyond's breath tickling against his neck, sprawling across his vertebrae. The sudden coolness of the outdoor air brought goose bumps beneath L's thin sweater, and the grip of B's hand, cuffing his wrist, made the diminutive nodes curdle.

He was wrenched backwards, B pulling L tightly against his chest. Thin, yet muscular arms, so much stronger than L's own, wound around the detective's waist. In that instant, the physical discrepancies between L and hid doppelganger became clear, and the tell did not work in L's favor. He was pulled back, stumbling against protruding limbs and soft fabric identical to the shirt he wore. Beyond's hands gripped at L unkindly, fingernails begging at the detective's skin, clawing against rumbled cotton to be let through, to pierce, make bleed, and then finger paint the pavement the two Wammy's stumbled over.

Watari's first shot couldn't have come at a more profound, beautiful, life altering moment. And if it had made contact with the monster clawing raggedly through L's body, it would have been all the more glorious.

The two men hit the ground, L writhing beneath B. Bits of gravel, soot, and grime collected against his fingers, staining his hands black as he struggled away. A kick, straight for Beyond's scarred over face, had the murderer rolling away, just enough for L to scramble. And he was racing down the street, pace measured, slow enough to give Watari a chance, fast enough to not fall prey to B. At least he hoped for as much.

The car, his getaway, was less than yards from him. It only took one leap and a skid against asphalt for L to wrench open the door and dive inside, turning the keys Light had left dangling in the ignition. Except, a foot jammed itself between the door and it's frame, and L couldn't pull the door closed any further. It was torn from his grasp and B loomed there, smiling down at L, teeth glinting like the big bad wolf, and L could have sworn the pieces of calcium came to a point.

His hand clutched the stick, and he slid it into drive, owl eyes unmoving from Beyond. Pale fingers clutched the steering wheel and he barely took his foot off of the accelerator before another dart whizzed through the air, the sound of needle plunging through flesh causing L to flinch as B buckled against the open car door. And L was in park again, reaching for Beyond's hunching form only to be thrown back into the car by a very, un-paralyzed, serial killer.

The tranquilizer pierced Beyond's neck, but it would only _be_ effective if it _stayed_ in B's neck.

It didn't.

The murderer wrenched it out, blood splattered against L's face as skin fell away from Beyond, cutting apart flesh as the dart was ripped out, yellow poison, a solution of sleep, dripping, acidic in both color and effect, from the metal tip.

That was when L started kicking in earnest. Watari would shoot another, if he could see the tumult occurring inside the vehicle, another dart would shatter through the glass. Maybe… L wasn't entirely sure darts could break through glass, but Beyond was already in the car, pulling the door shut behind him with a feral growl. L needed the dart to break glass. B had the other dart in his hand, legs gripping into L's sides and causing the detective's back to impale itself on the gear stick as he laid down the middle of the front seat, one hand grappling at the steering wheel in a mad attempt to pull himself up. The car horn blared as random limbs, belonging to both B and L, hit it, calling for attention and help. But there wasn't time for it. Even as L's thin fingers clawed into Beyond's eye sockets, pushed his face further away from his own, the quarters were too closed, he could barely move, and when he did, it was only to shift closer against Beyond, and that was the last thing L wanted.

His head ripped back as he pushed himself away, sliding roughly beneath B's weight, foot pressing against the driver's side window so he could move into the passenger seat. His hand clasped at the door handle behind him and yanked with enough force to rip the cool metal off its hinge. But it didn't budge. A cackling smile turned Beyond's eyes into slits, a python coiling around a lion, ready to swallow the other beast whole. And that's exactly what B did, his hands curled against the back of L's neck and the killer slinked forward, hovering above the detective. L pushed back, with legs, arms, hands, feet, he used everything and anything he could to push Beyond back. But confined to a locked sports car, it wasn't enough, and the tranquilizer plunged into L's chest, needle striking just above his heart, fluid leaking into his veins and pulling him towards paralysis.

B held the dart in place, gleeful, like a cat manipulating the mouse to catch the bird for him before swallowing both it and the mouse he'd manipulated. The expression was disgusting, anger inducing, but there was little L could do against it. His body went limp in the murderer's arms and the world extinguished.

3B

The girl couldn't walk. And really, "girl" was the best way to describe the child Beyond had taken. Despite her wardrobe, Light didn't even want to place her age above sixteen now that he could fully see her. She was the epitome of beautiful youth, yet that had been shattered. Torn to vicious shreds.

The three of them stumbled through the exit of the arena, nearly forty some odd minutes after L had sprinted off with B in tow, tripping over the too many feet and set of legs Light and Matt dragged along, both of them getting soaked through by the tears that didn't want to stop falling from the girl's eyes. It'd taken longer than anticipated to get out, to carry the girl through dilapidated walls while avoiding any more traps B had littered through the halls of the arena. But, finally reaching the exit, stepping into cool air not polluted with dust, the feeling was bloody magnificent and both were feeling the relief.

"So?" Matt huffed in an effort to keep the lightening mood light, "boyfriend?"

Light snorted in response but said nothing. L could answer that question seeing as he was the one spouting the fucking title right and left. Light didn't really think L understood the social implications the word 'boyfriend' implied, and if he did, then L could go fucking die. …that was if B hadn't already skinned him in the parking lot of the stupid arena. Already, he was glancing around for L and Watari, dragging the limp girl who might as well have been nothing more than a bag of sand, for all the help she supplied.

L wasn't there.

Watari, was absent as well, and Light found himself once more praying to a deity he didn't believe in. Where the fuck were they?

"Something wrong?" Matt asked, noticing the narrowed look in Light's eyes.

The Gran Turismo was absent, the entire block, for that matter, was void of all cars. Light honestly wasn't sure if that was good or not. Defiantly wasn't part of the plan, Watari was supposed to be there in L's ridiculous crepe truck with Beyond Birthday strapped to an autopsy table. That's how they'd planned it, and up until then, everything had gone, quite surprisingly, according to the halfcocked, delusional, idea L had plotted out after having sex on M&Ms.

Light was still waiting to be swept into a cute, little hand basket and shipped down to Lucifer's residence.

Said hand basket came with the turn of L's pink eye sore speeding down the road towards them. Rubble squelched against asphalt, burning and leaving a darker impression of black upon the graying pavement. But the scent of burning rubber wasn't anywhere near intense as the look of sheer panic Watari leveled at Light.

There was no need for words, because Light knew, and without a word he had the girl in his arms, bridal style. Her thin, dress riding up against the muscles of his arms as he leaped into the van, Matt following, his own understanding of the situation written across his face. The girl was deposited on the table roughly, Matt slamming the door shut behind him, bouncing on his feet as he watched Light sit the girl up and make her look him in the eye. Watari was already driving.

The girl was unresponsive. Her head lolled against Light's hand, which cupped her cheek gently, brushing back sweat and tear stained strands of hair. In his arms, she trembled, his comforting touch seeming to make her sobs come harder, tears leak faster. Despite the way he handled her, Light's amber gaze was anything but gentle. It was colder then steel and made Matt falter.

"What do we do?" He asked, hands slamming against the sides of the vehicle as Watari ran through a red light. But neither he nor Light seemed to want to offer an answer, and it had Matt thinking that maybe they didn't know what to do. "There's a clue right?" he snapped, wide eyes watching Light pat the girls cheek, trying to get something more from her than unintelligible syllables. "Something for us to go off of, _right?_"

The most Matt got was the squeal of tires as Watari headed out of the back roads and into heavy traffic. They seemed to be heading for the hotel head quarters, back to Near.

Light's attention was still fixed to the girl, quietly coaxing answers from her to no avail, completely ignoring Matt.

"Hey, hey," he shushed her with a low murmur that had all the consistency of honey. "It's okay, can you hear me? It's all right." Her hair was smoothed back some more, tears soaking into the sleeve of Light's shirt as he continued to whisper to her bawling countenance.

"Dude!" Matt snapped finally, grabbing Light's shoulder and wrenching his away. "She isn't going to say anything! She's freaking in shock. Now leave her and tell me what the fuck B's next clue is!"

Amber burned like glowing coal as Light glared at the pink haired teenager. The shouting had the girl turning into more of a puddle, and he kept a hand on her shoulder squeezing gently. He glared, though the heat of the stare wasn't wrought with anger, instead it was filed with urgency, something indecipherable beyond that description, but telling and completely foreign to Light Yagami's visage. "She _is_ the next clue."

3B

"Get out."

Mello blinked, glancing up at the sudden storm that rolled on into the ballroom. Immediately, the idiots stood, flanking the blonde teenager protectively, tasers at the ready. It was a bit too Spock and McCoy for Mello's liking, but he appreciated the sentiment and stood, eye brows raised, as Beyond turned the gilded room into a darkened, depressing, vortex. And really, all the murderer was doing was standing there, panting, glaring, snarling, and the cloud of toxic dust and condensation churning through B's wild mane pulverized the air around him. It was a glare, open anger, and it turned the entire atmosphere of the room.

"Get out," Beyond repeated, taking a violent, jerking step forward.

He didn't know what to do. The Idiots were already making their way towards the door, but Mello wasn't moving. B's words, his actions, they did not compute, even if he'd fucked up whatever his "mission" from Darling had been. Confusion stirred at the back of Mello's throat and he said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm taking the leather," he snapped, glaring down the anorexic grizzle bear before him.

Eyes wide in disbelief, genuine surprise and possibly a touch of anxiety, B stared blankly at the blonde. "That's my leather!"

"So?" Mello snipped. "You gave it to me. The leather is mine, as is the chocolate! Number One, box the candy!"

The security guard glanced back and forth between hostage and assailant, probably more floored than he'd ever been before, but he complied and gathered the box of gourmet chocolate into his arms. He ended up using it as a shield though, practically throwing it at Beyond who was suddenly charging for Number One.

B tore the box out of the air, sending candy flying across the floor as he threw it sideways and sent a kick at Mello's Idiot. Yet neither he nor the teenager paid much attention to the guard, now wheezing on the marble floor. "You never even appreciated this stuff!"

"Gifts from a kidnapper tend to taste stale in my mouth."

"Then get your own fucking candy! Buy your own leather!"

"NO! This shit is mine, and if you want me to leave I'm taking it all WITH ME!" He was shouting. Mello had no idea why, but he was shouting bloody murder at a murderer, fists balled, hair buzzing with the electricity of his own frustration. Beyond was telling him to leave, get out, and it was pissing the blonde off. Stomping, he grabbed the leather pants and ripped off the black jeans he wore, replacing them with the buttery, tough as nails fabric. The rest of the wardrobe, pleather jackets, tight fitting tees, and everything else black, was tossed into the box before he started grabbing at the chocolate, piling the golden wrapped goodness into the cardboard after his clothes.

"Fuck you!" B snapped.

"I talked to your stupid Darling, I know what's going on!"

Bipolar. Such was the only way to describe the sudden shift in Beyond's demeanor. It was like some invisible hand had just flicked a switch in Beyond's brain, clapped on the sanity the way lights clapped on in an infomercial. The rage, which had screwed the ballroom over in its ferocity, raping the very air Mello breathed, extinguished. It was gone. No more. Mello couldn't even find a trace of it in any part of Beyond's figure. All he saw was the interest, the superiority, and the pride, that pulled itself over Beyond's lips, like a heavy, red lipstick. And considering B's own wardrobe of Lolita wear, it wouldn't surprise the blonde to find the killer wearing lipstick, unless he was more of a gloss man.

"You talked to Darling?" The words purred from smirking lips and Beyond stalked towards Mello, delight alight in his cheeks.

And suddenly, Mello was faltering. "Y-yeah. I called him."

"And?" Thin hands caressed the teen's pale cheek softly, the tips of B's finger's warmer than Mello had ever found them to be, almost as if he'd been soaking them in something torrid. The scent they carried was equally as off.

"And what?" Mello spat, not at all enjoying the physical contact but unable to pull himself away. He didn't want to leave, would refuse even if B physically threw himself from the hotel. Mello wasn't budging.

B's head tilted to the side, just as it always did, so much so that Mello had come to think of it as a nervous habit, something that wasn't derived from the stereotype of L. "Little Dear, what is your next move?" B's head fell, resting on Mello's shoulder, the man's other hand suddenly cupping at Mello's hip in an action so intimate the blonde was left drowning.

Stiff, unsure, he did nothing but answer. "I want to help."

"You don't even know what we're doing," B whispered back, nipping at Mello's ear. He could feel the boy shiver beneath his touch and the temptation to run a hand beneath the black tank, already stretched out from the abuse and wear Mello inflicted upon it, B gave in. Like tickling, fingers drumming, he breached the force field of fabric and slowly drew a nail up the side of the pale, youthful back. Terrible thoughts, naughty and perverse, ran rampant, practically rabid, through Beyond's already twisted mind. But those, they'd need to be saved for later. _Much_ later.

But Mello was arching. Quite abruptly the minor became weak to the touch, the caress, which he'd never received, not for years, and even then, not in this manner. It was a bit less than glorious. Sex, Mello imagined, would be glorious. But the touch, bare skin in contact with calloused fingers and jagged, untrimmed nails, it was riveting. Already confused, there wasn't much else Mello had the capacity to do besides react, react the way his body dictated, the way the muscles beneath his skin commanded, already taking their cues from the synapses of the blonde's mind. And those thoughts, firing off with little sparks, transmitting through the cerebral cortex, they betrayed Mello. They betrayed him something fierce.

Yet, it worked to his favor.

"But I do know Uzhas. You've all but told me the intricate details of your asinine operation."

"Asinine?" B pulled back, not far enough to distance his face from Mello's, in fact, the two were millimeters apart, but the distance was enough that red could meet Mello's irises without effort. "You think so little of our plan?"

Mello growled, but he didn't move a muscle. "I think it's foolish and idiotic with no hope of success. The word suicide comes to mind."

Laughter, joyful and enraptured echoed around the empty ballroom. Mello hadn't noticed the two guards slip out, and that was probably for the best. His body was hurtled around and then there was spinning, the room dissolving into a blur of motion, Beyond being the only thing in focus. They were dancing, Mello realized, a waltz or something else equally as stifling, he didn't know, and never in his lifetime would he want to. But Beyond's hand still gripped into his back, the other appendage which had previously occupied Mello's face, now clutched the younger's hand, waving it through the air as their bodies weaved. This had to be the most disturbing thing Beyond had ever done to him. Once more, the word "bipolar" sprung to mind.

"So perhaps you do know what the grand plan is," B chortled, spinning Mello about the room with all the grace of a crazed ballerina. Sauntering, twirling, and all around throwing Mello's brain against his own skull via centripetal force, B danced. While B tittered away, psychotic delight possessing his feet to glide across marble like it was nothing more than ice, Mello felt ready to vomit. He'd eaten nothing but chocolate and he was beginning to feel the effects on his stomach lining, which seemed about ready to rip and unleash its entire contents. The spinning did not help, nor did the sudden stop.

No warning, because Beyond would never been one to offer such trifling things, and Mello hit the floor. There was no time to jump to his feet, and even if he had, B's weight would have pushed him back to the ground. The serial killer straddled his hostage's waist, wiggling slightly, hands caging Mello to the floor as the older male hovered over him, a piece of paper in his mouth. Mello didn't even remember seeing the paper materialize. How the fuck did the man even do that? It was creepy, and the way B's tongue poked out from just beneath the tiny slip was so incredibly wrong.

"Take it," B hissed, words muffled by the folds of the white, notebook sheet. Mello could see a slight dampness seeping from where Beyond's mouth clenched over the page, and it made the teen shiver. Disgust or something Mello didn't even want to begin to comprehend, he wasn't sure, but he reached a hand upwards anyway, intent on tearing the offensive note from B's mouth. And if all went accordingly, he'd rip out a few of the killer's teeth while he was at it.

The paper fell into his hand, B's jaw unclenching around it, and suddenly, the murderous monstrosity was off of him. But B didn't move away. Red eyes watched the blonde teenager, assessing. If ever there was a moment Mello would give away his true loyalties… well this wouldn't be it. B liked to think he'd taught his Little Dear better than that. Even in such a short amount of time.

Mello didn't unfold the note. "What is this?"

"Something from Darling," B shrugged, grinning softly, hands in his pockets, almost swaying back and forth on his feet. "Now go."

The teen stood, fingers rubbing the paper roughly, as if willing it to shred apart. "I told you, I'm not leaving."

Beyond laughed, his rocking motion growing in speed as he digested Mello's irate expression. "I never said you couldn't come back Little Dear. In fact, I fully expect you to."

Teeth grit, and not amused, Mello unfolded the paper, quickly, more than aware of Beyond and his swirling. In fact, the murderer was twirling again, orbiting Mello, arms flung out, twirling. Like a fucking planet, and Mello was his sun. It was unsettling, but then, so were the words written on the paper.

It was an address.

"I want a gun."

B wasn't spinning anymore. He stared, pouting slightly, at his young charge. "There have been a lot of guns lately. Pop popping, boom booming. It's rather unattractive in my opinion."

"Yes, but they have a way of gaining people's attention," Mello replied tersely as the plan snapped into place like a K'Nex set. "That's what I want."

"Oh Little Dear," B purred, reaching behind his back and pulling a sleek, slightly worn, revolver from the small of his back. "You'll never cease to gain people's attention. Especially if you keep with the leather."

The gun was passed into Mello's hands, and he took it, letting his hand fall to the side, heavy with the weight of the Colt Anaconda. It'd been used before, and Mello would have to check to see if there were actually any bullets inside the thing, but for now he let it hang in a loose grip, delicately touching the side of his leg. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?" B asked in that caricature of innocence he was so good at.

"Play with people, lead them along to where you're told to take them, but in the most bat shit crazy manner possible?" There was no way, in Mello's mind, that Beyond had given him that little sheet of paper out of the goodness of his heart. Beyond Birthday didn't have a fucking heart, somewhere down the line of his youth he'd clawed it out from his chest and eaten it. The address was just another tie, a string looping around the teenager's wrist and pulling him along in the appropriate direction. But, Mello still felt he deserved to know _why_ he was being pulled in that particular direction.

"Because," B remarked, once more twirling in circles, "Tortured souls are overrated."

3B

The child had left, finally. Mello wasn't in the hotel anymore. B couldn't help but wonder if that meant the boy wasn't his hostage any longer. And that really would be quite the tragedy. He liked having hostages. They made him feel powerful, a joyous tingly sensation that made his fingers and toes wiggle in excited delight. The Little Dear had that effect on him, Beyond just couldn't deny how reminiscent the teenager was of his Sweetie Jam…

"They are so alike," B purred, gliding down the stairway, fingers running lazily over the dusted collection of expensive wines. The very air of the cellar was tinged with grapes, B could fleck his tongue out and practically taste the liquefied fruit, crushed and bottled in pretty green glass. "And yet," B turned down the corridor of shelves, both hands now pushing dust off of bottles as he walked across the stone floor. "They're very different. Funny how that works, isn't it Mr. Twelve?"

Red eyes sparkled as Beyond turned out from the row of shelves to face his glorious conquest. It didn't hurt so much, to see his Little Dear fly the nest, join the big wide world of vultures as nothing but a baby chick, because he'd already replaced the boy with a hostage so much more valuable. His toes and fingers were in an electrified tizzy of elation, it was a landmark of a moment.

L gave no response. Tied to an empty, wooden shelf which was bolted into the black-grey rock that made up the walls and floor of the Langham's Wine cellar, the detective hung limply. Breathing wasn't difficult, there was nothing obstructing L's windpipes, disallowing them to take in the much needed oxygen. It was the stillness, the need to remain perfectly unmoving, that lent the detective issue. One small shudder and he'd bleed out, exactly as Beyond had planned it. Barbed wire was a nasty thing to tie someone up with, and Beyond hoped L appreciated the ingenuity. Cold, wired, twisting, perfection, it made the serial killer's smile grow to that of a child's at Christmas. Except, this was one gift B'd given himself, and it was sweeter like that. He admired the pale wrists, rusted barbs spearing into L's skin, causing blood to pool and leak like a drippy faucet. The wire wove several times around the detective before affixing him to the shelf, inches off the ground.

B stood directly before his mounted prize and poked L in the ribs. "You hid in a _box_," the murderer deadpanned, tilting his head downwards so as to look into L's wide, glazed eyes. And hopefully that was nothing but an act. L playing dead. "You hid in a tiny box and Sweetie Jam shoved you into a tank…. You hid in a box…I still can't get over the cowardice of that." And he poked the detective again.

L exhaled smoothly, breath casting over Beyond's face, but there was no other movement. He rejected the pain and just hung before B, staring right back at the doppelganger. There was a difference between watching B from afar, over camera, and then having him right there in front of him. It was like looking into a mirror, one that grabbed the reflection and pulled at it until it depicted wrongness, sharp, contrasting, wrongness. Fascinating, yet terrifying, and the latter far outweighed the other. "How did you know where we were?"

B smiled slightly, L's voice, rough from paralysis, triggering the muscles in his face to show off his delight. "I've always known where you were," B said, fingers reaching out to tickle down L's cheek. "Finding you was never the issue. It was getting you to come out and play, that's all I wanted."

"Not Watari."

The statement had B laughing, fingers gripping L's neck and squeezing, almost as if trying to break the collar bone with his bare hands. "You honestly think Wammy isn't going to come for you Twelve?"

L actually didn't think anything on the subject. If he did, he'd probably lash out and kick B in the forehead, which would result in his wrist twisting against the barbed wire and in turn he'd risk puncturing a vein. Thinking about Watari, the fact that the man no doubt would come for him, it was out of the question. L settled for _knowing _Watari would come, he settled for envisioning the elderly gentleman popping a bullet right through the area where B would have a heart. It wasn't something to fear, L knew his mentor was capable, accomplished, there was no lack of confidence between the two. It was the time it'd take for Watari to get to wherever the hell B had taken him that L wasn't too keen on calculating.

The detective watched as Beyond's fingers pulled at the collar of his shirt, jarring L's neck in a way that made his arms flex and the barbs cut. The movement drew a hiss from L as the cuffs of his sleeves soaked in more blood, skin tearing millimeters more, though the pain tickled like yard sticks poking his brain. The abrupt hiss made B's smile a winning one.

"I'm not _stupid_, Mr. Twelve," B intoned, fingers drifting over the pale bone protruding from L's neck before he twirled over a lock of soft, black hair and tugged, ripping the strands from L's scalp. "Far _from _it." The murderer ignored the grunt of pain that shuddered between L's teeth, backing away from his captive, eyes aflame with a desire that was anything but sexual. The hair he sprinkled across the floor.

Dangerous to mock the beast, especially when one was the speared squirrel dangling before it, but it wasn't in L's nature to just give in. He didn't submit. "You are stupid B. I know this because an intelligent being would release me." The burn in his wrist was dulling, the blood turning cold, but his last words weren't going to go unpunished… and that was the plan. Keep talking, keep Beyond engaged, keep conscious, don't die.

Simple enough.

And that's what L thought until he saw the barbed wire. More of it. B pulled it from his pocket, not slowly, but for L it might as well have been in an agonizing slow motion, the twelve gage metal slinking out of its denim confines. The barbs were sharp, practically cutting through the alcoholic air in much the same fashion they drew blood. The detective gave no reaction, silently watching as B wrapped the destructive wire around his left knuckle, simultaneously stepping back up to L, who couldn't help but tense.

B's smile had disappeared with the appearance of his… string… but L could sense the pleasure sparking just beneath Beyond's skin, and that destructive delight grew in tartness the moment the wire was strung behind L's neck. Weaving around the detective's body, B gently looped the wire over L's neck once more, treating it as if it were a string of the rarest pearls. To L it was like wearing dynamite, already lit, the fuse sending burning cinders to cascade across his neck. He stopped breathing, under B's gaze, caught in the tangles, his lungs stilled and his blood paused in its movement. The barbs scraped but didn't cut against L's neck, not until B wrapped the other end of the wire around his own knuckle and jerked his arms back, tight.

Each barb pierced, it slammed through L's skin as if hammered down into his bone. The skin ripped like tissue paper, unable to withstand the assault, and blood exploded. L gagged, eyes flaring wide, unable to comprehend anything but Beyond's twisting frown, splattered red. The blood bubbled out, seeping between metal and flesh to run slowly, like warm syrup, down L's back, shoulders, chest. It ran in rivulets, and every pore the blood clogged was irritated with the pressure of L's pain. It made him gasp, the heat that pulverized the nerves of his neck, for all L could feel the wire might as well have been lit on fire, set to glow a deathly orange. His teeth grit, and L knew they were sanding each other down, the bones chipping as he maintained his silence, his stillness, his lack of thought.

It was then that L realized he should have been breathing. It would have been in the best interest of both his mind and his body to have continued to process air, because with one tightened tug on the wire, B effectively robbed L of any ability to breathe. The metal crushed the lower respiratory tract as if it were a tin can beneath a truck tire. Involuntarily, muscles straining and shuddering, L gaped, mouth flying open in a scream empty of noise. His head hit the wood of the shelf and stars burst in a rainbow effect, framing B's face like a shoddy camera fun frame of blood and lights. It was a potent mixture of duress and lack of oxygen.

Nothing he could do.

Things had suddenly gone past L refusing to think to him flat out being unable to process coherent thought. The synapses were firing, but only with a mantra of 'painpainpainpainpainpain.' It was all L was capable of feeling. A blue, scalding fire cutting through his throat, damage almost irreparable, had the barbs been millimeters longer they'd have cut straight through L's throat. Or maybe if B pulled tighter… stopped controlling the strength with which he pulled. L would die. Or he'd bleed out. Didn't really matter in the end though, because there was no rhyme to articulate the sensation of barbed wire grating over skin, pressing into it, mutilating it. His wrists were shot, the thrashing tearing them to pieces as L's body tried, desperately, without conscious thought, to get away from the pull of the wire, away from B.

The blood wasn't seeping anymore, it was running down his throat, a gush, staining his shirt, creating a sticky adhesive that decorated B's own hands. Through the convulsions of his burning lungs L could see the redness, dark and warm, running down B's arms, the barbs equally cutting into the killer's hands. Yet the man's expression was one of serenity. Calmness. He took no issue to causing pain, to slicing through L's throat. He acted as if it was divinely planned, something that was supposed to happen. B with L's life in his hands, at the tip of his deadly string, L caught in Beyond Birthday's rusted web. Literally, not the figurative challenge of Los Angeles, but a literal translation of everything B wanted from the man he imitated.

The wire fell from Beyond's hands, falling in circling tangles to snag softly at L's jeans, but it didn't loosen. Blue was already tinting the detective's pallor, asphyxiation settling in as his throat surged against the wire, causing the metal to impale itself deeper into L's skin, the body betraying itself in its quest for air. That was until B pulled a pair of wire cutters from his other pocket and jammed them right against L's throat. It brought another gasping cry from the detective as the rusted cutters scraped against his abused trachea, massaging the revealed organ with all the softness of sandpaper.

The tremors wracking L's body didn't stop, and they may very well have been due to shock. But the barbs sprung free, releasing like a coiled spring, the wire jerked out of L's neck, flinging a fine spray of blood across the cellar and over B's arms. Blood gurgled through L's throat, the iron flavored liquid pooling in his mouth as he finally regained the ability to hack and cough, saliva and blood lubricating the dried interior of his mouth.

"Silent during torture," Beyond whispered thoughtfully. "You're a very good victim L." He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans, blood smearing away from the open punctures he'd inflicted upon himself.

"I'd have thought you wanted me to scream." The words were panted, muffled by the blood, but L forced his lungs to breath, the air to move down his wind pipe, if only so he could show Beyond he was not surrendering. He'd never surrender.

"No…" B purred, once more stepping back to watch L, twisting smile hinting at the sharp teeth hiding just behind his lips. "Accepting your fate and mocking me while doing it, that's a good victim. Though I did file the pointy parts on the wire down some… should have made it more comfortable for you, less chance of you dying."

"The probability of my bleeding out, right here, is a rough seventy three percent," L hacked, spitting more blood down to the floor at Beyond's feet. He could feel the liquid begin to slow, coagulating, epinephrine hard at work. "Though I appreciate the consideration you have taken into my own personal comfort. Quite hospitable of you."

"Yet you don't panic," B commented, the remark almost sounding as if he were commending the detective for his lack of vocalized pain. "It's all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows," B sung out slightly, adding a sway of the hips and tilt of his head to the words. "Is that how you truly feel when we're together?"

"I think disgust," L spat out more blood, voice growing ragged as his throat protested the use of vocal chords, "would be more apropos."

Beyond was on L in seconds, leaping up, feet jumping to the second level of the shelf, hands curling around the top, placing him in a position above L, a human cage straddling without touching. B's face hung low, blood splatter dripping like rain on his pale cheeks, falling off the murder's chin and onto L's face. This close, L could trace the burn lines, molted skin graphed back into place via hours of countless surgery, almost untraceable in the light of sun or the tinge of darkness. But up close, it was there, running in ragged, spiraling lines across flesh darker then L's own. The detective's blood clung to the scars, ran around them, and L could not help but notice it. Remember it.

He'd overseen the surgery himself, from the moment B was carted away from apartment 404 until the unfortunate young man ended up in a padded cell. L had watched like Beyond's own personal God, the Old Testament kind. But that had been from afar, countries sitting between their two locations. This was fucking close. Nose to nose, L's eyes caught against a pair almost as dark as his because he had nowhere else to turn, they were too fucking close.

A long finger, ending in a roughly bitten nail traced over the detective's cheek, pressing firmly against the clammy skin so as to drag it down, Beyond's blood marking the finger's trail. "You never cried as a child... did you Twelvesie?"

L fought the urge to flinch, he kept the bile rattling his stomach firmly in its place, the most he dared to move was the trembling that came with hypovolemia and a flattened fury. "Does that really matter?"

B smiled, a kind twist of his lips that would have sat better on a kindergarten teacher's visage, but on B it was downright lewd. "I'd say it matters. Big boys don't cry, they don't care, feel." The shelf began to rock, B forcing it to move inch by inch, despite being bolted directly into limestone. The metal screws screeched in protest, but B rocked the wood with his body, wrenching backwards then forwards, fingers and bare toes gathering splinters as they gripped the wooden storage unit. "Big boys do nothing but chirp like computers. Dull. Boring. _Broken_."

That was when the motion stopped, B slamming the shelf back against the wall on the final syllable of his statement. The force had L's head banging backwards again, this time scraping as more bursts of light hit his vision. The barbs were not reaching the bone of his wrists, Beyond's movements having caused the detective to toss against them, in them, a million pointed stings digging deeper down in the bound appendages.

It wasn't good enough for Beyond though.

With the sudden stillness of the shelf came the removal of a bottle from its neighbor. Covered in a layer of dust thick enough to have past as snow, B dropped to the floor with the bottle of wine. A flourish of his bleeding hand had the label uncovered, but L was in no state to read, comprehend, or even care about the antiquity of the liquid. Lambrusco or Rothschild Jeroboam, there'd be little difference in flavor when the liquid seared over his gaping throat, room temperature sweetness left to eat away every germ that had materialized over the open wounds.

By that point L was wavering, rocking in and out of focus, until B swung his arm and shattered the bottle against the shelf, missing L's shoulder by sheer inches. The sounds of cracking glass and the gush of wine, freed from its casing, barely registered in L's mind. The pain was dulling, the sheer agony retreating, but with it went his consciousness. Blood loss, trauma, his mind rebelled against the need to quit, give in, but L's body, still woefully human, said otherwise. Fuck, his body was shrieking otherwise. Flesh felt heavy, like it wanted to slide off of his muscles, which were currently straining in an effort to keep nonexistent blood pumping. His vision was the only thing in focus, riddled with sharp white spots of deliria, yet he could still make out Beyond and the concerned look the man was leveling at him.

Strong fingers gripped L's chin roughly, jerking the detective's gaze upwards and onto B, where technically, it had already been centered. "You okay in there Twelve? Or are you feeling a little… _drunk_?"

B laughed, L cursed himself.

"Or… better yet… are you coming back together? Has ripping you apart made your mentality sew itself up neatly? Rag Doll?"

L's limited ability to respond left him answering with nothing more than intense hatred in his eyes and a slow shake of the head.

B smiled softly, finger once more dragging up the detective's cheek. "Perhaps I can assist you in making those tear ducts work then."

The bottle replaced the finger, or more accurately, the jagged, broken tip of the bottle did. Green glass slid through the air and over L's cheek with care, the neck of it clenched in Beyond's fist. L followed the movements from the corner of his eyes until it came so close it filled his vision. The broken glass paused right at the inner corner of L's right eye, just below the tear duct, and B gave pressure to the tip.

It was a light sting at first, far more bearable than the strangulation had been, but it still cut, and as Beyond began to drag the broken shard down L's face, the deeper the cut became, until L was crying blood. At least, that was the image B created. Perverse, symbolic if one looked upon it hard enough, squinting their eyes, but still, B was making a mockery of L.

The alcohol, a light red, diluted the blood seeping from the deep cut and sent a sharp sting directly into L's eye. It smelt foul, heady and bittersweet, an uninspiring blend of ripened fruit and not enough age. It caused the detective to blink furiously as tears welled up in his eyes, attempting to protect his coronas from the broken bottle caressing his face and the odor it gave off.

"I really did want to meet you," Beyond purred, the sight of L, hanging, crying, sending electrified shivers down his vertebra. This was the most powerful man in the world, something little, misguided children aspired to become, and it writhed before Beyond, reacted to his ministrations in such volatile ways. The silence of L was a heavy thunder, speaking to B louder than finely articulated, Hitler speeches. Because L's reaction was his silence, the guarded defiance edging soulless irises, the pretty pout of pain mixing against the taste of death, all framed by pursed lips. It made B feel like Poe.

Of course, once the pain had ended, the moment society said one had to speak, it was only after that moment that L would respond.

"That's very flattering Beyond," L gasped, the words now spoken with a voice foreign to the detective's own ears, mutated by cuts of wire and glass, wine dripping into B's artful tear.

"You were always the one I was interested in," B acknowledged, carefully retracing the laceration, tipping the broken bottle so more remnants of alcohol would drip down against it. "Because really? Why would Wammy get a bunch of kids and try to make them into you? What made you so fucking special?"

The bottle finally pierced through L's flesh, so far into the detective's mouth that his tongue scratched against it. More blood, more nauseating iron flavor, filled his mouth, and suddenly L was vomiting it over the floor, B leaping back just in time to avoid getting hit with the surge of body fluid. Like he wasn't already covered in enough of the red liquid.

Hacking, sputtering, with a hole in his mouth, somehow L drew up the strength to answer. It was a vocal memorial to his own stubbornness, inability to back down, and desire to just fuck with Beyond in the only way he could, that gave L the ability to string syllables into words, even if there were muffled by splutters of blood, saliva, and shallow gasps for air. The need to defy B was greater than the torture, because it was how L tortured B.

"I'm a childish genius," the detective spat, head lolling forward, eyes bloodshot and unwavering. "I've conducted… _solved_… over four thousand of the world's most difficult cases. That's nearly twenty thousand degenerates being cared for by public tax dollars." Ragged breaths came then, piercing L's lungs as if B was stabbing through them with the bottle. "That's what makes me so… _fucking_… special."

Anger swept through Beyond at the end of L's declaration. It was a lie. Nothing made the man special. L was human, not a gothic font on a screen or a symbol of justice. L was dirty, rotten, a poison to the plate of kiddies all over. There was nothing special there, nothing more than misguided intellect.

"And where then, does that put the rest of us, L?" B asked coolly, his smile still in place, but frozen, frozen with the blood on his shirt and dripping from his hair. The predator had gone dangerously still. "Those of us who try so hard to mold against your statistics? Where are we?"

But the killer didn't want an answer. It was a rhetorical question, and if he left room for L to respond he might just end up killing him. More wire, more bottles, and L'd be dead if he answered.

So B just stepped back into the light of L's eyes, the firm, unwavering, blistering, abused gaze coming inches from his own. L needed to understand, and the only way to make it happen was to draw the parody out, the parody of L's copy, slinging the truth in the most toxic way possible.

"We are in the darkest region of the human brain," B said, thumb pressing against L's cheek, the clean one, unmarred by blood. "It's a radiant abyss where children go to find themselves, and come out empty because they couldn't find _you_. That place, that's hell L, you left us in _hell_."

3B

"Where are we going?" Matt demanded, finally sitting in the seat across from Light and the girl, who he'd maneuvered to rest in the booth instead of on its table. The pink haired teen stared out behind orange tinted goggles, the lenses were the only separation he had between himself and the reality that was running red lights in desperation, yet still idling in traffic every other light. There was only so much driving they could do.

"The hotel," Light said smoothly, voice unwavering. "We need to get the girl to the hotel."

"NO!"

Breaks slammed against the floor of the driver's compartment, tires screeching as Watari actually heeded to the order of the yellow bulb flashing into red above their heads, mainly due to the unexpected cry echoing from the victimized woman's throat, taking them all by surprise. She slammed into Light as the car came to a rapid halt, clinging to his shirt, eyes blurred by tears, wide and panicked.

"Mello… Mello will be there…" she stammered, voice teetering between the tones of unintelligible hysteria and the desperate need to be understood. Broken nails actually ripped through the fabric of Light's shirt with the pressure of her grip.

"What do you mean?" Matt demanded before Light could pull the girl off of him. The teenager was back on his feet, leaning over the table with an unintentional snarl that in no way calmed the poor girl. "Where's Mello?"

Whimpers filled the truck as Watari switched gears and once more had them barreling down the road, swerving in and out of cars, but the girl gave no response. Not that Light would have expected her to when an armed, bug eyed adolescent was breathing down her neck. The profiler shot a glare at Matt, the command to sit back down, rein in the rampant misguided anger, and cool off, burning in his eyes.

Pink hair huffed upwards as the boy plopped back down, glaring, wishing he could just reach down the blabbering woman's throat and pull out the answers he needed. They didn't have time to be consoling, to wait for her to sober up and be rational. Matt didn't have time himself to be rational, because they were so fucking close. She was the answer, the tool to end their pathetic standoff against B, and Matt was sure as hell going to use it. Anything to quell the terror, the plague of nightmares rapidly morphing into daydreams as his mind sickened itself with antagonizing worry.

"At the hotel…" the whisper was spoken softly against Light's chest, coming from the girl in response to the twenty year old's soothing pets and calm demeanor. Matt didn't know how he did it, fought back the tension and acted smooth as cream. But it only made Matt's lips thinner.

"What did B do to you?" the metallic voice rang through the van, causing each of them to start in surprise, forgetting the Near was even there, a disembodied presence, listening to the conversation. The alien monotone brought another wave of tears from the girl as she collapsed against Light once more, shivering uncontrollably, wailing, fearful visage whipping around the claustrophobic space, searching out what she couldn't see.

The irritation began to flash over Light as Watari hit a speed bump without slowing, and he pushed the girl back into her seat. "It's okay," he emphasized, calm façade slipping for all of two seconds before his face adopted it once more. "Relax, nothing's going to hurt you."

"He is right," Near drawled, perhaps in his own version of what he thought was comforting. "We only seek answers, things we need to know. Your assailant left clues on the other victims. Now Miss, tell me what he did to you."

It was the wrong thing to say. She fell apart, memories, the ghostly presence of Beyond still fresh in her mind, like a wound with its stitches tearing back open, fresh blood abandoning the body. And she fought against them, a scream that spoke of madness, abuse designed to unhinged, slapped across the four men as long arms and legs suddenly flailed. Light caught her as she slammed against the window, fingers clawing at it, tears, sweat, and crusted blood smearing over the glass, clawing to escape what she seemed to regard as a pink and white, mobile prison. But Light pulled her back, restraining her violent kicks and scratches until the sudden burst of adrenaline, stirred by the reality of what had happened to her, abated and she collapsed, breathing heavily, burning her face with more tears, rumpled and defeated in Light's arms.

The display answered Near's question perfectly, so clearly that no one wanted to breathe, wanted to ask for more details, because it all hinted, gave the perfect illustration, to what was and had happened to Mello and L.

Nimble fingers gently messaged across the woman's body, with clinical precision Light felt over the areas of covered skin, pressing on nerves and muscles, seeking a physical reaction from Beyond's victim. But she gave none, and that scared him all the more. The only physical injury was the trauma of the bruise on her scalp, the rope burns at her wrist, and the telling signs of being drugged. No other damaged existed.

"Did the man hurt you?" Light whispered, cradling the girl against his chest. "The man who kidnapped you, did he _hurt_ you?"

She shook her head, gulping, trembling, but otherwise seemingly too suddenly exhausted to protest.

"What _did_ he do?" Light pressed gently.

"Shoes…" Her legs shuddered at the word that normally made woman across the globe so very happy, yet she spat it out in revulsion. "He made me wear them."

Light glanced at her feet, and once more saw the overly large stilettos she'd been tripping over. If anything, they would have fit B more than the petite girl sitting in his lap.

Matt stared at the foot wear in an equal amount of incomprehension and plain antipathy. "He made her wear _shoes_?"

Phantom pains crept along Light's neck, dark reminders dragging the mangled corpse of Light's previous failure out into the center of his brain. He'd recovered his pride of course, but the physical damage far outweighed the mental. Reminders. Chilling, cold, and taunting just the way Beyond knew how to taunt. It was his twisted way of making the world think he was insane, the brilliant façade of crazy hiding so many messages, each designed to cut the intended receiver.

The girl fell from Light's lap as he moved over, suddenly opposed to physical contact. Despite the discomfort buzzing across his body, mingling with the remnants of pain, a souvenir of years ago, the hallucination of mangled flesh, Light pulled the collar of his shirt back to reveal the knotted imperfection. A scar he'd always possess.

Red brows disappeared beneath pink fringe, accompanied by gaping lips, ridged with tension.

"This," Light said deftly, "is what happens when you let beyond Birthday just a little too close to you."

"I read L's file regarding that incident." The lack of urgency in Near's voice contrasted against the blaring of car horns and screams as Watari channeled his inner demonic speed spirit, completely ignoring their conversation in his attempt to get to the hotel as fast as possible. But the three geniuses didn't pay any mind to the pedestrians or anything occurring outside the van. Sweat slicked hands clutched white leather, bracing against the violence Watari took at corners. And through the building tension, Near's voice cut like a hot knife. "He did it with a stiletto right?"

Light didn't answer, there was little point when Near already knew the answer and Matt was smart enough to figure it out. The unfading scar was quickly covered, the collar of Light's shirt shifted to hide the discolored skin, once more immaculate despite the tear stains, light splatters of blood, and the brown grey of powdered rubble. The girl however kept staring at the spot on his body where the branding scar had been revealed. Life had sparked back into the female's eyes, which had been duller than rain clouds only moments previously, but now, crying stopped, shacking minimal, she seemed curious.

Matt was also staring, openly, in horror he didn't even have the patience or aptitude to veil. "Wait, so he's - "

"Telling us Light is involved," Near interrupted smoothly. "Responsible for the girl."

"That's preposterous," Watari barked, finally adding to the conversation, though the focus of every little bead of sweat marching down his forehead was on the road. "Beyond's actions are entirely his own."

"No they're not," Near disagreed without pause. The superiority in his voice was startling; especially considering the boy's lilt was completely toneless. But he spoke faster than usual, indicative of his own internal turmoil and the weight of their situation. "We've already established there is someone else B is working with, the likely hood of him commandeering an entire Air Soft Arcade, singlehandedly, is what's preposterous. He had help."

"Well it wasn't Light!" Matt snapped back at the air. It was all idle chit chat in comparison to finding Beyond, and while logically the teen knew the discussion was necessary, he could not help the sheer frustration coursing through his veins. Sitting in the back of a van, talking, was simply not _enough_. "He was with L the entire night."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Actually, I don't care!" the pink haired teen snapped. "So let's just handcuff Yagami to the tiny oven back there!" he gestured wildly to the back of the van, "and someone tell me what that fucking shoe has to do with Mello!"

"Nothing."

Matt rounded on Light, who's expression was pained, distant, and focused entirely on something the younger genius could not see. "What?"

"By now you should know, B likes taking the random things in life and using them to portray a deeper meaning. It's like his calling card. In L.A. it was Wara Ningyos, stealing body parts, and killing people in different ways. Relatively tame in comparison to his recent activities, but he wants to be noticed here. Not by the world, but by L, by us. And, as Near has stated, there is an outside benefactor. L and I had a hell of a time getting in here last night, and that was just loading guns and dropping him in a tank. B booby trapped the entire playing field, he had help."

"And the shoe, is him telling us that that help is you."

Near's underhanded agreement had Light scoffing. "May I remind you that B tried to murder me with a stiletto?"

Silence, met Light's statement, but the voice in his head wasn't so willing to be quiet. "_You can't run from me Sweetie Jam, you don't want to."_

Words of poison, sweetly perfumed with a noxious aftertaste. The truth in Beyond's accusation, made so many thousands of hours ago, was as much a lie as it was honest. Paradox. Because he couldn't run from B, even with an endless amount of jogging, sprinting, leaping through finish lines, B would always be at the end to trip him up, weight him down. A stray thought in the back of his mind that wasn't stray at all, but demanded every last reservoir of Light's attention. And he did want to run. He wanted to turn away, take a butcher knife to his neck, peel the flesh from bone and not care if he bled out from the trauma or actually freed himself.

Letting Beyond out had been a mistake, the equivalent of releasing a Black Widow from its diminutive glass box. Skilled, with invisible webs you could only see if sprayed with water, B crawled, danced, until the prey was all wrapped up. And then he was deadly. Yet, Light knew, B had told him, this dance was far from over. Letting B out of his pillows-for-walls cell all those years ago, B had maimed Light, gleefully, with a satin heel, only to run back into said confinement and wait for Light to go to him, wait for Light to confront _B_. The murderer didn't pounce on victims that weren't aware of the danger they face, that weren't aware of just how sticky that spider web was.

"B is now telling us," Light said, flinching as the blaring of car horns and screeching tires rang against his ears, "to come and get him."

"You mean Mello," Matt clarified, forever on that one train of thought.

Shoulder hitting the window as Watari took another sharp turn, Light jerked his attention back to the girl. "Where exactly did B say Mello would be?"

She blinked, chewing her lip, sucking the blood she tore from the appendage, before answering softly. "With Near."

The albino's sharp intake of air could be heard throughout the van. "Me?"

That was when Watari decided to take a short cut.

3B

Near hung up the connection, there wasn't any more useful information to gain from the conversation. Yagami had revealed his last card and he was still looking for an ace to play. Instead, the boy answered the phone that had been buzzing insistently the entire time L had been gone. He place the phone, permanently attached to L's computer, to his ear and waited for a voice to come over the other end.

"This is Naomi Misora."

Near paused, the name stirring multiple things in his mind. Hardly would it be coincidental for L's lead shield to call, when once more, L was in the midst of hunting down Beyond Birthday. The fact that L had just been kidnapped by said serial killer made things even more suspect. Either that, or Near really needed to start wearing tin foil hats.

"L?"

The female spoke again, and Near jarred his internal L into action. "What do you have for me Misora?"

"You wanted information on one of my agents, Light Yagami?"

Well that was sweet… The albino could hear the hesitation in the woman's voice. She didn't want to be giving this information away, which meant it was sensitive. "Yes."

"I'm sending you some recent information I dug up in regards to Mr. Yagami's personal life, mainly his family. I know you asked if he had any criminal ties beyond his work with Birthday. The email should contain everything."

Near blinked and quickly moved to L's other PC, booting it up and seamlessly moving through the first twelve passwords. It was far enough in to open email. Misora's web address blinked steadily in the inbox, highlighted in blue, and Near clicked without hesitation. Technically, he had yet to defy L's orders, and the detective hadn't said his own computer was off limits… and maybe hanging out with Matt was beginning to influence the albino negatively.

Images popped up on the multiple display screens, each one a different street cam angle of the same individual. Near recognized Yagami in the photo, it was taken the day Matt had disguised himself as a police agent to access the crime scene. However, the man beside Yagami seemed to be the main focus of every image.

It befuddled Near slightly as to why Misora would find this man to be of any importance. Clearly he was a criminal of some sort, Matt already had a wager on crime family. But the information never seemed to bother L, probably because he already knew and it was of no big deal. Frankly, L didn't like dealing in organized crime, he found the power play and politics boring. Near couldn't fault him for that. But the man, matched with none of the case files in L's database, nor was he an active Wammy Agent. Near had already memorized the faces and corresponding aliases of each living member of The House, he was not one of them.

"Who is this man?" Near asked cooly, hating to assume his time had been wasted. Allegedly there was a murderer on his way to no doubt dole harm upon Near's person, which meant he needed to find a way to tie Light to Beyond before something unfortunate happened to himself.

"We know him only by his alias, and the last name of a Yakuza crime family. Attach Junko."

Near's vision seemed to suddenly freeze over, mind pausing, rebelling, at the first two syllabus that exited Misora's mouth. _Attach_. He felt the cold chill only seconds before the excitement hit. Petite fingers flew across the keyboard of Matt's laptop, images of children, teenagers, and adults flying across the page in nanoseconds, but Near saw them all. Blank eyes wide, and for once, possessing emotion, because he _had it_. He sat there, unblinking, mouth a thin line of expectant success, dark eyes waiting for the picture to come up. His evidence. His proof…

He had it.

There on the screen, in shoddy, faded coloring, was the image of a boy, barely a teenager, scowling. The Asian ancestry spoke from the tilt of his eyes, the sharpness of his facial features, and it all matched up to the crappy street image Naomi Misora had acquired. Perhaps the woman wasn't such an idiot after all. Because there he was, a member of the undead by all legal appearances, A, L's original successor.

Suicide. Such a lie. A brilliant, twisting, lie that strung the entirety of this case up with a red string.

It was like hearing puzzle pieces snap together, the satisfaction of waving lines and jutting edges coming back into a whole, complete, picture. Beyond… L… A… Light… He had completed the puzzle. It all stood out clearly in his mind. The feeling was unlike anything, better than the starkness of an un-edged, blank puzzle nestled together, than the feel of dice, stacked in endless rows around him. This was real, intangible, but real. An actual case solved.

It all made sense.

He could hear Misora still chattering, uselessly on the other end of the phone, but without thought he cut the line. He didn't need her getting in the way, she'd been useful, now she was just a keen annoyance. L would take care of her later anyway, once they got him back from Beyond, which wouldn't be too difficult. Watari had all he needed to find L's location traveling in the van with him.

The game had become decidedly different with A's appearance. But Near didn't have time to care about it, think on it, or figure out the _how_. He needed to tell Watari. He needed to tell Watari before they lost it all.

The connection was humming through the computer, the word 'dialing' flashing across the screen repeatedly as the signal bounced through space, off L's own satellite, and towards the pink crepe truck. Near bounced in the seat, lock of hair twirling around his finger quickly, nibbling his bottom lip, willing the computer to connect him faster.

But it didn't move fast enough.

The door to the hotel room blasted open in a shower of breaking wood. Two gunshots, breaking the lock right off, along with half of the door itself, rammed against the albino's ears despite the silencer that muffled their bang, causing him to flinch, practically fall from the chair had he not grabbed for the desk in time. Another shot whizzed out, it's speed tickling white locks of hair, and L's monitors died, the computer hit head on, exploding in a flash of brilliant sparks and flailing wires. The boy spun wildly, blinking at the damage, erecting a calm visage over his face despite the hammering his heart had taken up against his rib cage. And what Near saw standing there, framed in the demolished doorway, was wholly unexpected.

"Hello N," Mello grinned sharply, boots crunching wood shards into the luxury carpet, completely at home with the gun in his hand and the less than sane glint in his eyes.

That was one puzzle piece that didn't fit. It wasn't even a part of the puzzle, not the one Near had been looking at. But the boy already knew what was about to take place. He saw it clearly written in the lucid, yet hysterically unhinged gloss of Mello's irises. He also observed the slight tremor of Mello's right hand which was clutching the gun tighter than necessary. But the small motion wasn't enough to betray the confidence brimming over Mello's demeanor.

"M," Near acknowledged, not even pausing at the letter usage. None of Mello's usual disgust towards the albino was present, so the formality didn't surprise Near. But it set his teeth on edge. The six feet of distance separating them might as well have been six inches. Near could feel Mello's breath hot on his face, it came with the dark grimace painted over the blonde's visage.

The only thing Mello's arrival told him was that Beyond had always known where they were, where L was. It backed up the evidence that would never reach L.

Silence hung out between them, the proverbial dust of Mello's dramatic entrance settling, and neither lost their cool. That was just how it was. No weakness, no emotion, nothing but a harsh acknowledgement that ran sour down both their throats.

"Drop your gun."

Mello snorted at the carefully stated command, keeping said firearm lowered to his side, tight in his grip. In the short span of time he'd been holding it, the matted metal had already become something of a security blanket, just more destructive than the grey, sheep he'd slept with as a child. "What?" he called back. "I'm not pointing it at you."

A lock of hair knotted around Near's thumb in vague agitation. "If you had no desire to point the weapon at me you wouldn't have felt the need to shoot the door down, or pulverize L's computers."

Grimace morphing back into a humoring smirk, Mello stood his ground. "You're right." And his arm rose. "I have a new goal now Near. I'm not a tool for anyone to use anymore, I'm not your opponent, I'm not your classmate. You're simply in the way."

"Watari is going to die," Near droned back at the boy, seemingly ignoring the flurry of Mello's explication. Really, his body was tensing all over, and he was sure Mello had noticed. But the child couldn't bring himself to care, there was little point to controlling his body's reactions now. "You'd allow him to do that?"

Near craved the pieces of Mello's puzzle, the knowledge of what was ticking underneath the other boy's skin, what kept his blood pumping. Before, Mello had always been a piece of the puzzle, and, as the volatile teen has just stated, a tool to solve it. But now, Mello was the puzzle. Near needed to figure it out, figure the extent of the elder's knowledge, his plan. Even if it was a futility.

"Sacrifices," Mello stated blandly, pulling the safety back with a dull click. "They need to be made. Watari's just a catalyst."

"You would use the deaths of others to further your own investigation?"

"You're just mad you don't get to solve it yourself."

And Mello pulled the trigger, because if he didn't do it then, he never would.

Matrix style slow motion, two pairs of eyes traced the trajectory before Near's crossed and the bullet went straight through his skull. The silencer prevented the noise of the shot from calling anyone's attention, but the sound of Near's brain fracturing, shattering, as blood burst out the back of the boy's skull, likening his head to nothing more than a water balloon, that had every last fiber of Mello's attention. Blood, red and fresh, splattered against the cracked, dead computer monitors. Brain matter blew across the surface of the finely polished table, dotted with tiny slivers of Near's skull. The albino teenager, for once, stood out to Mello in a vivid contrast of color. Sick, dark red running over white. Near's body slumped back in L's swivel chair, sprawling, limbs dangling, a hole of gaping brilliance shining out the back of his head while the front displayed only large, open eyes, and a single tear of blood winding down a soft nose, courtesy of the bullet hole occupying Near's forehead.

It was a difficult site to turn away from, one of those macabre, enticing, images that fucked both the mind and the soul at once. Forced the audience to keep viewing because of how keenly warped it was. The tremors, the fury, it was all suddenly internal, caught in Mello's mind, shoved to the back where it'd probably never be processed. Ever. He refused to clench his eyes shut, refused to blot the image out, for now it would be fresh.

Several minutes of staring at the newly created corpses passed until finally, Mello was able to turn away, sever the ties and walk out. It'd be a fresh gaping wound on Mello's anatomy, far larger than the pulverized skull he was moving away from, but it'd be ignored. Not forgotten. Just kicked under the rug and made into nothing more than a lump he'd trip over.

Stepping back out into the hotel hallway, leaving the double door to hang off of its hinges, he pulled a bar of chocolate from his pocket, gun already shoved down the front of his trousers to leave his hands free. Tearing the wrapper and snapping a bite Mello entered the private elevator, scowling despite the warmth of his addiction, incurable hatred brewing in the bowls of his stomach. "So much for the competition"


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Long story short, I now have two homes on opposite ends of the country. Moving was a bitch, that alone took two months to complete, and let's not even talk about the whole flying back and forth time zone thing.

But I'm building a career doing the only thing I know how to do: write, so I don't regret any of it in the least. And honestly, my future looks pretty damn bright right now. I'm just sorry it took several months for me to get back to this story.

Given what I HAVE been writing for the past four months, my fear is that characterization and even my writing style may be slightly skewed. I sincerely hope this isn't the case and that nothing detracts from the reading of this chapter. That is, if you're still reading it, I realize it's been a long wait. Again, I'm sorry. But, better late than never I suppose.

Also, the ending here is a little iffy, it's not what I'd originally had planned, but Mello decided to be a little bitch. XD

Thank you to all who've read and reviewed thus far, and if you're still with me then my thanks is even greater.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and thus I am not making any money off of this work.

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Chapter 21

The waiting was the hardest part. Logically he knew it had only been days since he'd last seen Matt, the pink haired, idiot gamer that refused to leave him alone. Mello knew that was entirely his own fault though, having forced Matt to be his best friend when he was nine. Kid had been such a push over back then, now he just acted like one. Matt said he did it to appease Mello, but the blond knew better. Matt just didn't want to be noticed. Though he was god of the little virtual worlds he conquered, he'd never wanted to be a player in reality. Not like Mello had. And that's what made the waiting hard. He just knew, instinctively, deep in that part of him that only stirred when Matt looked at him, the part of him the understood every movement and inflection the gamer made, Mello knew Matt would follow him.

Loyalty. He fucking hated it.

3B

Matt knew blood smelled bad. He could recognize the scent from a distance of twenty feet away and could even estimate how long the blood had been exposed to the air based on smell alone. But that was assuming the blood wasn't fresh, and no lesson at Wammy's House had ever had anything to do with the observation of fresh blood. Freshly spilled blood, it was an animal the teenage was wholly unfamiliar with. Still scented with iron, accentuated by the noxious stench of brain matter, lukewarm and staining a thousand dollar carpet. Fresh blood made Matt vomit.

And he'd been vomiting for all of two minutes, constantly, to the point that he barely had any time to take in a breath before stomach acid and partially digested food came pouring out of his mouth and into the toilet bowl. It was funny, Matt thought, sweaty palms just barely keeping his chest from falling against the ceramic throne, because he hadn't eaten anything in days, nothing more than "biscuits," which he knew were really just cookies, and hot water. He couldn't eat, could barely function. He'd just been walking in the direction L pointed him in, like a robot, not knowing any better because his mind just couldn't handle thinking about getting Mello. That required truly acknowledging that his best friend was… gone?

Near was dead.

Matt gagged and coughed, chalking bile into the toilet once more. At this point it'd just be easier to reach down his throat and tear his stomach out completely. Eyes scrunched closed, he gasped for breath, willing his heart to stop hammering and the nausea to abate. Numbly, he flushed the toilet.

He'd never been close to Near, the albino being the only person Mello had every really loathed, Matt disliked the boy on principle. Teenagers were stupid that way, he was stupid that way, and maybe if he'd cared a little more Near's brilliant mind wouldn't be on the carpet in tiny pieces, it'd be helping him find Mello.

Matt bit down on his lip, refusing to let the sobs he knew were coming loose, instead he bit through his lip and tasted blood. Near was _dead_. And he knew who did it, it didn't matter how or why he knew, just that he fucking knew who'd shot the white haired kid from across the room. That knowledge made him sicker than the stench of Near's blood did. So maybe he didn't care about Near after all, just what Near's death meant, and that was always B's ploy, wasn't it? Isn't that what Light had told them as they'd raced through London? There was meaning behind the deaths. And Near's meant that he'd lost Mello.

Mello was gone. He'd killed Near. There was no coming back from that. It was impossible to even _hope_ that Mello would come back to him from that. Killing people fucked you up. That was why it was a criminal offence. Once a murderer, then unfit to remain in society, because murdering people… it just meant you weren't okay.

Mello wasn't going to be okay, and Matt just felt like there was nothing left for him to save.

A knock came from the door, but whoever it was didn't wait for a response. Light casually walked in and sat on the edge of the bath tub, staring at Matt with only the slightest amount of concern.

Matt choked and threw up again.

"Pleasant," Light drawled, reaching over to pat Matt on the back.

The teen nodded vaguely in response, sweat dripping down the side of his face. "I'd never seen anything like… _that,_" he whispered. And suddenly he was facing toilet bowl water again, pursing his lips shut because he just wanted to stop throwing up.

"I wish I could say the same."

Matt glanced at the older man. There was no emotion in Light's voice, just fact, an easy fact that the profiler seemed to have made peace with. Matt couldn't help but wonder how many freshly dead bodies one had to see before he could acknowledge it as if it were commonplace. Statistically murder was a very common occurrence, but acceptance of it, that wasn't so common.

"Lean back, away from the toilet, it'll help," Light instructed, the hand that had been patting Matt's back gently moving to grip the boys shoulder and ease him away from the bowl. The twenty year old shifted slightly, reaching over to pull a towel down from the rack beside the sink, and then he turned the bath faucet on, placing the terrycloth beneath the water before turning back to Matt, handing him the wet article. "Near was shot with my gun."

Silence responded to the statement, but Light didn't seem to notice the discomfort it was laced with and Matt just sat there, the warm, wet towel dripping in his lap, unmoving.

The profiler reached into his pocket and pulled a small piece of bloodstained metal from it. The small, golden bullet was mangled, it's tip pushed back, resembling a peeled banana, and Matt was amazed at the damage such a tiny thing could do. In just a split second, the tiny piece of metal had murdered a genius and fractured his best friend's soul.

"Beyond took it from me at the arena."

"So… Beyond Birthday came here and killed Near."

"No."

The word itself might as well have been a bullet because it made Matt's head reel with pain. Or maybe that was just dehydration. He needed something to drink. Preferably something hard that burned as it went down his throat and would only make the dehydration worse. Jackie D. would've been a good girl to have around at that point.

Light seemed to sense the thoughts rolling through Matt head like marbles, disorganized glass spheres all knocking against each other, vying for attention. The older man sighed and yanked the towel from Matt's hands, folding it over and then dropping it over Matt's head. "Get up, we need to get back to the truck."

The pink haired teen blinked, still sitting on the tiled floor while Light hovered over him, waiting. "We're leaving?" he asked. "Just where the fuck is there for us to go? The chick told us to come here and what do you know, there's a dead ass albino bleeding out over all the computer equipment! Housekeeping's gonna have a hell of a time cleaning that shit up." God his voice was so dry, in inflection and taste. He felt like he was eating dust.

"Stop it Matt. Trust me when I say you'll have more to pity yourself for after tonight, so push the rest aside and focus."

"I can't… I can't think straight!" The teenager snapped back. "I just… I smell it, even here, from the fucking bathroom, I still smell the _blood!" _His voice was shaking, a slight tremble just barely detectable. "So much fucking blood."

A hand gripped his arm and Matt let Light pull him to his feet. "And you will always smell that blood Matt. No amount of bleach is going to get rid of it. We gave you five minutes to adjust, but now," Light swung the boy around and Matt found himself being slammed against the sink. White marble dug into the small of the teen's back as Light shoved Matt backwards, pinning him by the arms. Blue eyes widened in surprise as cold amber stared back at him, unimpressed. "We don't have time for this Matt. Mello's _here_."

Sweat stained pink hair was combed back as Matt sighed, the action rattling his lungs as if they were made of glass.

Irritation flashed across Light's visage and Matt could sense how difficult it was for the man not to growl at him like a rabid dog. Fingernails clenched painfully into Matt's arms as Light shook him, but the boy barely felt it. "Goddamnit!" Light hissed. "You've seen a dead body before, I was there, I saw you staring at it, and you didn't react like this!"

"React like this? Of course I didn't react like this!" Matt responded, cringing as he felt the hysteria tingeing his words. He was holding on by a thread… one god damn piece of string that could be torn apart by nothing more than a pebble. "Beyond Birthday had killed those people! And they were total strangers! They didn't matter! The strangers never matter! But Near, Near fucking matters! And so does Mello!" He was screaming, and he was vaguely aware of how the bathroom door opened and Watari stood in its frame, his tweed pants and starched shirt stained with blood. But Matt didn't really care, he was human, and he deserved to break down, even if it was at the most inconvenient moment possible. "You know what matters even more than that?" he continued, wide panic and anger filled eyes wildly latching onto Light's. "The fact that Mello fucking killed Near! THAT. FUCKING. _MATTERS!_"

"Matt." It was a steady whisper, and filled with all the pain Matt was boiling over with. Watari took a step into the bathroom but Matt was already pushing his way out into the hall, hiding everything he was feeling, the distress, the unease, the way his mind just seemed to be splitting in two, he hid it behind a scowl.

"Matt!" Watari called after him, but the boy kept moving, stumbling into the living area.

He shut his eyes as the sent of blood once more filled his nostrils. The body had been moved… Near's body, Matt reminded himself, refusing to think of the other teenager's lifeless form as an exhibit at a crime scene. Matt refused to breathe as he trudged towards the door, ignoring the way his shoes bristled against the carpet, tacky with blood stains.

"Matt!" Watari's call came again. "Where are you going?"

"Mello's here, isn't he? I'm going to get him!"

"Get him," Watari exclaimed. "What do you mean?" The older man followed his charge out the door of the hotel room and into the hallway. "Matt!"

"He's here! That's what the girl passed out in a room five floors beneath us said!" Matt rounded on his mentor, glaring at the man. They'd checked the girl into another room and left her with a bellboy Light had tipped quite nicely. It didn't look like they wanted to do anything other than leave her there too, did that make them heartless? Fuck yeah it did.

The pink haired teen shook his head at the look on Watari's face, the expression clearly telling him "Don't go down there, you don't want to go down there and see him, none of us do." And really, denial was a better, sweeter state of mind than anything else at that moment. Matt couldn't fault the elderly gentleman, the man who'd fucking raised Mello, for not wanting to go any further past this point. Mello couldn't return, you don't return after you blow your arch rival's brains out, just wasn't polite. But Matt, Matt could go back, he could go back and forget.

But damnit, he couldn't leave, not without Mello. Never without Mello.

"Matt," Watari rested a wrinkled hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing. "Please, at least tell me why you think he's here."

A snort came from the doorway of the suite. Light leaned against door frame, arms crossed, a grim expression on his face. "To kill Near," the profiler said. "Beyond sent him."

Matt closed his eyes, blocking the world for just a second. "Beyond would only let Mello go if it meant Mello would have to go back to him, that's what you're saying."

"Well, honestly, it's a brilliant move. A teenager who'd been brought up with a Justice Code of Honor more stringent than the Knights of the Round Table's, and he kills his… competition, Near. Now, he's got nowhere else to go," Light explained, his every word making Matt's skin itch. Every time Light said Near's name it felt like he, Matt, was the one taking the bullet to the head.

"But that doesn't mean he has to go back to Beyond," Matt said. He pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against to stand in the middle of the hallway. "So I'm going to find him, and I'm going to punch him in the face!" And Matt turned, jamming his thumb against the elevator button with more force than necessary.

Behind him Light sighed. "And besides punching him, what do you plan to do?"

"Help him!"

The elevator door dinged open and Matt stepped inside, followed closely by Light and Watari. The small space left the boy feeling claustrophobic, especially given the tension wafting off of everyone around him. It was almost surreal now, just standing in an elevator, moving at two miles per hour down to the hotel lobby. Such a simple action, a luxury action considering the elevator was private, but a simple one none the less. Businessmen, women and children, regular people rode elevators every single damn day. And apparently, so did teenage murderers.

"L's still out there," Watari said, breaking the silence.

"And Mello can tell us where he is," Matt responded immediately. "He'd have to know if Beyond let him go."

"To kill Near."

"STOP SAYING THAT! I KNOW WHAT HE DID DAMNIT!" Matt screamed suddenly, rounding on the two men. "I SAW THE DAMN BODY, I SMELLED THE FUCKING BLOOD! YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT HE DID!"

Watari flinched, his mouth turning down in a frown, but Matt couldn't take the man's emotions, not now, not anymore. He couldn't take Watari telling him to stop, to let it _go_. Matt didn't want to face the facts, he just wanted to face his friend.

Too bad Light didn't seem to think denial a great vacation spot. "Matt, you can't just chase after Mello. He's armed, he just shot someone, he's-"

"MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND!" Matt yelled, cutting off the profiler. "And I will not leave him, I will not treat him like a criminal." His words were cold, solid and heavy. They didn't echo through the small space, but they filled it, pressed themselves into every corner of the elevator and left no room for argument. "You can go check hotel surveillance, as I know you want to, you can devise some great, manipulative plan to follow Mello back to wherever the hell B was keeping him, but I won't. He's my best friend and I really don't give a crap that he just killed someone we grew up with."

Matt spun around, refusing to meet Watari or Light's eyes, and the elevator door dinged open. The teen took a step out only to falter, pause as his eyes landed on a figure standing right in front of him, eight feet away.

Blond hair, black leather pants, a gun in his hand.

"Mello," Matt breathed. But before he could make a move towards the other boy, Light tackled him to the ground, a bullet whizzing through the air and right over their heads as they crashed to the marble floor.

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A/N: So there you go. Short, I know, originally this was just the first part of the last chapter but… I wanted to get something up now.

Special thanks to ShinigamiMailJeevas for sending me the PM that got my ass in gear. So send that reaper some love!

And honestly, I missed writing this.

~Bag


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